


Sword and Arrow

by Iji



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, F/M, Sexual Themes, Slow Burn, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:09:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 57,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27281731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iji/pseuds/Iji
Summary: War has riddled the continent over hundreds of years under the aggressive rule of the youkai lord Sesshoumaru. His Wild Dog of the North rips through the human lands without mercy leaving only the most powerful of priestess as its only true adversary. A vicious battle turns the tides of a perceived endless struggle as fates collide through violent circumstance. (InuYasha AU)
Relationships: Higurashi Kagome/InuYasha, Miroku/Sango (InuYasha)
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

Hidden from the view of the discerning eye was a powerful shrine, small and quiet under the protection of a nondescript leather tent no larger than to occupy perhaps two people, standing. It stands alone, tucked near the back of the swarm of much larger tents that protected soldiers, armor, food, and weaponry and a select few priestesses though only one ever entered the tiny structure. A careful hand wrapped in silk and tied with armor tugged the flap of the tent aside to peer into the darkness that threatened to devour the dim blush-pink light that greeted her. 

“Mother, bless this field.” the woman murmured quietly, stepping from the morning sunlight into the darkness and removing her sandals as she did so. Knees lowered to the modest mat in the center of the suffocating structure - hands deftly moving through the darkness to the flint she knew was nearby in order to light the long stretch of tinder. Once she had a good light she began from her left with the first candle, “Mother, bless the women who guide us,” and clockwise, each candle lighting as she spoke, “Mother, bless the children who survive us,” until the final candle was brought to light and the tinder extinguished with a quick breath, “and bless the men who protect us.” Laying the tinder before her she pressed her palms together and bowed forward. 

The inside of the otherwise dull tent was like stepping into another world. Now illuminated by candle light the silk drapes cast a regal shimmer in the shadows - embroidered with scenes of the tales of old, the Shikon no Tama surrounded by demons, humans and hanyou as they fought to take hold of it; a constant reminder in her meditations of the power to corrupt such a warm, powerful artifact could have. Before her, to which she bowed, was a polished wooden shrine. Adorned with flowers and tied with prayers from home about the poles that sustained its roof the structure framed a stone statuette of a beautiful woman. The Mother. She sat upon her pedestal drowning in layers of fabric, carved to every detail--even the forlorn face that peered back to the bowing woman. In her hands was a lily, bloomed and opened wide and glowing that dim hue. 

‘I’ve been foolish.’ the woman thought as her hands lowered, auburn eyes staring into that faint light. ‘On the precipice of a breakthrough and I’ve let the power dwindle so much. Damnit.’ Thinning her lips to a tight frown she brought her hands behind her neck to untie the leather strip at the nape of her neck and ease a small talisman from the folds of her armor. Dangling from the necklace was a golden frame surrounding a large violet gem. Circling the gem were four inlaid smaller gems of different colors, red, blue, gold, and pink, all of which were framed in intricate patterns of vines and lilies much akin to the typical symbolism associated with the Fallen Mother herself. Holding out the talisman she settled it at the foot of the Mother who reacted in turn as the crystal in her small stone hands began to brighten in recognition. 

Bowing forward again the priestess placed her hands first on her knees only to have long tresses of wavy black hair brush against their backs. “O Sacred Mother,” she began quietly, lowering her shoulders further, “I bring to you my sins and pray for your mercy.” With her shoulders still stiffly bowed under the long curtain of hair she reached out for a cup set beside the modest shrine, carefully drawing a stick of incense and lifting it to the candle to her left. “Let me be purified in the light of you charge.” The scent filled the air as she brought the incense back and forth over the shrine, then up before propping it into the small wooden lilly beside the structure. 

Her hands came back to her knees, smoothing her fingers over the soft fabric of the white tails of her haori before they curled into her palms. Filling her lungs with the now nearly suffocating air she leaned forward again, slowly drawing her hands to the mat before her and her brow to the ground. “Please, lend me your power once more. Allow me to purify the wicked, protect the innocent, and bring peace to the lands again. May your love be known in the wake of your fall.” 

There was so much bloodshed and corruption. The fear of death, the terror to just how that death would come about by the hands of these vicious youkai; it was almost palpable. She remembered that shaking, the pale wide-eyed horror after her first battle, and she could still see it in the hardened veterans. In this small sanctuary the tension slithered like tendrils of doubt under the layers of leather and silk of her tent to reach her, call for her help to defeat their foes, and here she was desperately trying to glean what little strength the focusing crystal had left. Begging for the Mother to allow her more than she had allowed herself. 

Lips tightened further, nails biting into her palms through the silk as she willed herself to lower further to the ground. She was certain the mat’s rows of reed were going to make a red mark on her brow at this point. 

‘Please. _Please_ help me protect them from that wretch’s fangs. Let my arrows fly true!’

As if on cue to her thoughts turned battleward the sound of rattling armor came thundering to her back, stopping short of the flap of the tent and dropping to a knee. She didn’t move, but she didn’t need to. 

“Lady Kagome,” one of the men intoned, waiting for a hanging moment before continuing, “there are words from the towers; the general would like to speak with you directly on the matter.” 

The priestess lifted her head slowly and turned to look over her shoulder with furrowed brows. “The general?” she inquired; the voice outside was muffled, though audible enough for her to hear a rough grunt in return which sent her sitting up properly. “I’m meditating,” she urged, her tone stern though her attention was still focused behind her, curious expression illuminated in the flickering candle light. 

“The general would wish to speak with you directly on the matter, Lady Kagome,” he merely repeated, “I extend his deepest apologies for disrupting your meditation, and he understands the imp-” the man cut off with the sound of shifting material, looking up to the figure that now stood before him. Long raven hair draped over her shoulders and back to the loose ribbon tied at the base of her neck, cascading down to nearly draw along the ground behind her. She was already adorned in her armor - the shortened hotoke do gleaming and cleaned, accentuated by the violet beads and demon fanged rosary that hung from its opening against her white haori, the petite and fragmented sode over her shoulders of the same dark pitch as the hotoke do and tied tightly against the soft white only bringing more attention to the pure color, and the kasazuri that rattled against the elongated haori tails tied with brilliant red ribbons. The short, half arm kote was in a similar fashion, glinting in the early morning light as she brought her hands up to tie the talisman back about her neck, tucking the gem under the folds of her haori. Waiting for the flap of the shrine tent to close, the men pushed themselves to their feet, the youngest of the three stepping forward with her bow and quiver which she thankfully took to complete her look. 

“Thank you,” she supplied with a gentle smile to the man, looking toward the others who had accompanied him--specifically the captain, who now stood rigid under her gaze. Why were they scared of their ‘savior’? “Shall we be going?” The captain bowed a stiff bow, his companions following suit and leading the way for the priestess to follow to the familiar oversized tent near the center of the vast encampment. 

The trek was a long one, the camp being one of the largest she’d moved with in quite some time even after their last few weeks of near constant battles. She could expect as much, though; their goal was to finally pierce close enough to the demon lands’ borders to begin to gain some ground, yet they sat here on the cusp of breakthrough and at the end of their rope. Each tent she passed gained her an appraising look and appreciative bow, the latter of which she returned gracefully. Soldiers stopped their procession to request blessings for their blades, their armor, or for their spirits. Prayers of good health or an honorable battle, often an honorable death. Each face was clean, hands tidied from dirt yet their skin was worn. Age came easily to these poor souls after such hardships, and even their smiles were tired. The soft hand of their priestess on their shoulders, a word of encouragement. If that is all that she could do to give them hope and a few moments of peace then she would eagerly stop a thousand times on her way to the general. His army needed it. 

She hadn’t expected any sort of real news; their last push to the front lines of the demon army and their last stand before the next front was to come to take their place and hold the ground they had gained while the current army retreated to rest and restock. She herself was in desperate need of refocusing the shikon no tama’s power into the shard she drew from. There was little comfort in the warmth pressed to her chest now, which was a dull pulse in comparison to the vibrant heat it would take to if she had been able to harness the talisman’s full potential. This left her praying to the Mother that the general’s query was based on a lack of gruel for the troops or a concern of too few arrows for her and her assistants to be of any use in the coming battle. Something benign. Something she was woefully positive wasn’t the case. 

Two men opened the flaps to the general’s tent, the men inside standing from their chairs around the long table and turning toward her to bow as she entered the stuffy leather framed room. “Lady Kagome,” the general greeted her, his gruff voice like sandpaper to her ears, lacking any sort of gentleness. He was a hardened man, but she couldn’t begrudge him for that. He had been doing this for far too long not to be. Man scent, oil, parchment, and ink filled her senses in stark contrast to the sweet oils and strong incense she wore and had just retreated from. This was the scent of war, and this was the scent of fear. With her hands folded before her, she lowered herself in return, correcting her posture swiftly and moving to the closest empty space at the table while he continued to speak. 

“The towers have been watching the youkai forces beginning to make their way from the forestry on the other side of the valley flats. It appears they are fewer in number than expected.” His hand reached out with the tip of a slender rod, pointing the sword shaped end piece to the small wooden figurines representing ‘packs’ of the demons. Each pack traditionally held 100 youkai, which was more than enough to begin decimating regiments in their own lines. There were five packs on this map in contrast to the twelve samurai carvings on the hill opposite them, representing at least 3,000 of their own men. Considerably fewer than had been expected for such a large force in the area. “They’ve not multiplied much more in the past hour.” The dark, piercing eyes of the elder man looked toward Kagome, lofting a thick brow as if waiting for her commentary of which he received none. She merely stood patiently, hands both folded before her and gripping her bow, wearing an expectant expression. An expression that begged him to get to the point. One of his armored hands moved toward the box filled with wooden figures to his right, slipping out a thunder cloud and a lightning bolt and setting them behind the five packs. “Storm clouds have been seen gathering in an isolated position over the forest behind their fronts. They’ve not moved so we cannot be sure what they’re planning.” 

“Hiten and Manten are a risk, but not unbeatable. They’ve been pushed back before by priestesses less skilled than those with me now,” Kagome stated absently, lifting her bow to reach across the table and gently move a smaller object from their lines - a female figure, and then another, one toward either side of the field. “If we send a few of our soldiers with a priestess on either side of the flanks we should be able to slip past quietly enough and be in position to shoot them down before they cause any major damage. After the spring battle that cost Manten his arm they’ve been easily spooked by our presence.” The various lords looked to one another, still pensive, though whether it was from her matter of fact assessment of the ‘threat’ or the fact that she had missed something, she couldn’t be sure. “They’re powerful,” she added, trying to soothe the thick air of tension, “I know they cause widespread damage quickly but they’re not unbeatable. Have faith.” 

An armored hand returned to the box, removing a few small pouches holding various other symbols. Returning to the map the general casually placed the figure of a dog’s head, fangs opened wide with teeth glinting in the candlelight and red painted eyes glaring hungrily at the humans in its path. 

The priestess felt her heart stop and her blood run cold, the room silent except for the sound of their breathing. Everything went numb. 

‘ _The Wild Dog...’_

“The scouts know the signs to look for, the type of movement and formations its known for. One of the few scouts who have seen his image swears on the Mother that he is down there. Somewhere.” Even the sandpaper of the general’s voice was tight and reserved with all eyes focused on that lone figure on the map. 

“Why didn’t you state this from the beginning?” the priestess urged, willing a sense of power into her voice though she found herself breathless since discovering just how uneasy this all had made her. “You know what this means!” A hand came up before she could continue, the grip on her bow causing it to rattle against the table which was quelled by a snap of her own attention to her composure. 

“Hiten and Manten in conjunction with the Wild Dog is a strategic nightmare. Whatever it’s planning, it will certainly spell disaster if you are not sure that we are prepared for this fight.” The insinuation was crystal clear, as soon as the words hit her ears she felt blood rush back to her cheeks, turning them rosey. 

The Wild Dog was not known with such infamy for his losses. Those who survived one of his assaults were blessed by the Mother themselves and rarely wished to speak of their experiences, though from what she had heard, she couldn’t blame them. A massive demon, taller than any castle with a thirst for blood unquenchable. Each paw destroyed hundreds, claws that rended armies in two and fangs glistening red with the blood of the innocents left behind and undefended as their men fled or were murdered. There was no mercy in those crimson eyes, no stopping the unbridled wrath. 

Her training had prepared her for this confrontation. This was her life’s mission, why she was brought to the shrine and why she was ultimately in this tent at this very moment and the eyes cast upon her were awash with mixed emotions. Fear, speculation, and hope, yet the general’s heavy stare told her all she needed to know; he did not see victory in their future. 

Soft lips parted to take a deep inhale of breath, soothing her nerves as she gathered her thoughts. Fear was natural, but in the face of this adversity they had no other options. If this was their chance to finally quiet the Dog then there was nothing to stop the wheel of fate now. The men outside of their tent, the tired, war trodden men were there to fight for their families and loved ones. They suffered based on the hope that their blades could bring about a peaceful future. A future for all of them. This could be their opportunity to strike and she wasn’t going to waste it. 

_‘Mother give me strength.’_

Dark eyes focused on the map, now clear of doubt as she lifted her bow once again and pointed toward the dog’s head. “We will not quiver beneath the fangs of this animal. This _monster_. It lurks in our nightmares and haunts the eyes of every soul in this camp, the eyes of our children, the eyes of our loved ones. Our people have lived in fear for far too long of his coming and this is the chance we have to strike it down. Is this not what we are here for?” She lifted the bow, pointing in a sweeping, slow motion to each lord of the various provinces. “We know of its presence and that is more than any other army has had. We have an advantage. Not only do we know of its presence but we have a link to a potential plan in Hiten and Manten; it is shameful that you suggest a retreat when our time to rise above and out of this nefarious shadow has drawn near.”

_‘Mother guide my hand.’_

The faces of the men now focused on her, the skepticism gone and now blank as they absorbed her words. Her shoulders only squared defiantly, chin held high. “It is in this final hour that we will stand tall with blades drawn. It is now more than ever that we will show the Youkai Lord- “ the bow snapped to her right, pointing to the north and toward the capitol of the demon lands, “Sitting high on his throne that we will not be moved, that we will not be silenced.” Her free hand lifted to the beads that hung from her armor, bringing the rosary out and over the table to dangle, glinting fang and violet pearl for them all to see. “It is here and now on this field of battle that we will decimate his forces!” fists slammed against the table, pride beginning to swell, “I will collar his precious beast like the dog it is,” another chorus of fists against the table, an audible roar of metal ringing against wood while a few of the wooden figures toppled, ”before we take the monster’s head!” She thrust the beads further into the air in time with the chorus of roars that erupted from the men, fists slamming against the table in a healthy rhythm and sending cups aside, pens and parchment to the floor. 

“Gather your men! We will bring them to the center of the encampment and erect as large a barrier as possible around them to keep the Dog from striking us down with another ambush,” she quickly instructed. “My priestesses will sit and keep it maintained while we armor and prepare. There will be no warning when it advances so the best we can do is be swift and sure. I doubt we will be waiting long.” 

The General nodded, turning to the lords. “Move on, then. We have to empty the tents quietly and show no signs of our plans.” The room filled with the sound of amor rattling while the men simultaneously bowed, turning to take their leave from the tent in quick succession. The general himself followed suit though he stopped at the priestess's side, turning his eyes to her and letting them take in her much smaller form. She didn’t wilt, she didn’t flinch, but instead stood tall under his gaze. 

“You could be sentencing us to death,” he stated dryly. 

“I understand,” she replied just as such, nodding. He pondered her for a moment, jaw working back and forth while he ground his teeth. 

“Let us hope that the scouts are mistaken, Lady Kagome, for the sake of all of our safety. I trust you, and in the power of the jewel and Mother, but understand tha-” 

“I understand, my lord,” she interjected, offering him a warm smile, her grip tight on the beads she held in her hand. “We will survive. We must. Our people need it.” His lips thinned and he turned toward the door, stepping into the light of the quickly passing day and leaving her alone in the tent with the mess of a table and the lingering scent of terror that still played with her nose. 

A hand settled on the thick leather, pushing it outward while she turned to look toward the table where the lone figure stood, shaken but not toppled and towering over the lands painted all around it. An angry beast with piercing red eyes and wooden fangs that threatened to devour her without regret. 

She seized a defiant breath, steeling herself and turned to the light of day and the fresh air. She stepped into the chaos, pushing into the wall of doubt that threatened to absorb her as eagerly as the piece she left behind. 

_‘Mother let my arrows fly true.’_


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

The air was clear above their heads. Clouds dotted the fiery sky as the sun began to make its reliable path down to the far horizon, casting the valley in a warm hue. A certain priestess stood outside of her tent and peered up to the open expanse with her bow still clasped in her hand, chin tilted up and eyes relaxed. What a beautiful day. 

“Where the hell is it!” she finally hissed, hands coming up in fists before her, shoulders lifting as her teeth ground angrily against one another. She whipped around to begin trudging toward the barrier edge, the resting priestess who had been sitting beside the tent offering her back a wide eyed and apprehensive stare. Kagome had no concern over just who saw her outbursts or pacing as she regularly checked the far edge of the spiritual wall to peek over the horizon of the hill and into the valley to see if there were any developments with the packs below, much to the annoyance of one tower’s lookout. 

“Lady Kagome, if there is a development I will inform you of it,” he called down from his chair to the priestess who hovered just within the wall. She ignored him, lifting up and onto the balls of her feet and guarding her eyes with a hand from the sunlight. 

All of the packs were still there, milling about and looking to simply be settling in for the evening in their respective spots. The youkai were well armored, from what she could tell by the glint of scale and steel reflecting back at her, and looked no more threatening than the usual fare she and the others had encountered in the preceding weeks. Though there was no good or bad news, she still released a hissed curse under her breath, arms crossing and hip cocking in the trademark hitch of sass she was known for once her blood got boiling. 

The Wild Dog wasn’t known for, however, its grand scale of patience. Everything came on fast, hard, and violent and there was little time between skirmishes that he would allow either side to rest. He was a vicious creature and everyone had been sitting on pins and needles the entirety of the afternoon waiting for something--anything--to come, and the news of his arrival only made them more anxious by what it would bring. It was like waiting for the guest of honor at a gala party with the knowledge that once he arrived a good number if not all of them would be cut down. 

‘Is this some sort of mind game?’ she mused, tapping her foot impatiently as she glowered at the small figures below. ‘Is he trying to give us a false sense of security? Or wait for us to crack and break ranks?’ It was possible. For all of the stories that focused on the brutality, there certainly was one thing a trained mind could pick from them; this dog was smart. Night raids, divisions of entire armies, strategic hostages and bottlenecking - the list went on to the breeds of battle he’d been a part of which only attributed to the mythos surrounding him. ‘Nobody is that good. He might as well be a _god_ if I believed _everything_ these superstitious men spoke of as gospel.’

Still, it didn’t ease her spirits any to see night fall over the camp hours later, the fires burning below showing little intent to launch an attack that she could see and the fires burning within the barrier only drawing her further into a sense of unease. Men were sent out in small parties to light the fire pits in the abandoned areas of the camp outside of the protective bubble, a precaution if the dog was truly still down there and truly watching so carefully what it was they were up to. Biding his time for an attack as soon as he was sure there was an opening. Their precautions appeared in vain as every single team returned soundly, the scouts reporting no trace of unusual movement from below, and Kagome about shot an arrow into the forest as a call for this mutt to get on with it. The anxiety was enough to drive anyone insane, the virtual Sword of Damocles ripping her composure down strip by strip. 

Luckily for her the antics she portrayed, small tantrums and rants, appeared to lighten the mood of the men. Commenting on the fiery spirit of the young priestess and how the power to be so energetic when standing on the edge of such peril was the exact reason that the battle before them would be won. She would be lying if she didn’t say it was, in part, for show. Their rough laughter as she’d stomp a foot or thwap one of them with a bow along the shoulder as they teased her did well to ease a bit of her concern. It helped her forget for a moment just what a prison this plan to protect them had become. The compromising corner she herself had put them in. 

Throughout the night she paced the edges of the barrier religiously, checking in on each of her strategically placed assistants with fresh water, a bowl of rice, and bread. A hand-chosen lot of them, the strongest of the last set of trainees to be fully inducted to the faith and permitted to go to the field and fight alongside the tireless soldiers. Unfortunately, she had lost three during the march, brave women who gave their lives for humanity to have a fighting chance, and she cursed the youkai further for their tragic loss as she watched her remaining priestesses struggle under the pressure of their daunting task. For hours they sat still, focusing on their talismans, taking only short breaks since there were no priestesses free to take their spot. Kagome had offered, of course, a number of times. Pled and demanded that she take up one of the pillars, yet the general and her own assistants alike refused her. There was too much of a need with that damnable dog hovering just yonder for her to be at the ready for a fight, and if she were manning the barrier they’d simply be too exposed. Feeling betrayed, yet knowing the truth in their words she begrudgingly opted to keep herself busy tending to the needs of those who did take up the charge and instructing the general or soldiers who were available--at this point, all of them--to run simple tasks. 

Before she knew it, the sun was in the sky again, and the soldiers’ grim pensiveness turned jovial prodding was now on the verge of becoming panic. They walked silently from tent to tent, fully armored and gripping their weaponry with white knuckles as the tension grew. The scouts announced no changes, though the hints that the dog was still down there confirmed that he, indeed, was still a threat. The priestess was nearly at her wits’ end, though there was one thought that gave her a reprieve from the all-consuming sensation of a mouse caught under a teacup: the army that was marching to the fronts to relieve them should be there soon, a pigeon sent as soon as Hiten and Manten had reared their ugly storm clouds. It wasn’t terribly often a request would be sent for double time, but in this instant even if the extra numbers had been fatigued it would help, or so the general believed. She wasn’t so sure it was necessary any more. 

Again, she found herself standing at the edge of the barrier, and again, she peered over the demons who paid them no mind. Again, she was informed by the familiar scout of his duties, and again, she ignored his words. The difference was her posture. The once determined, fiery, defiant body language was exchanged for pensive contemplation. Her shoulders were low, a hand lifted to curl a finger over her chin as she watched. 

‘This can’t be it.’ Umber eyes scanned the figures below, ‘There must be something I’m missing...’ There was so little logic in it. It was as if the dog was taunting her, laying his arms on the table and letting her just stare at them while he sharpened his teeth. Not even the most composed military might she knew would be so patient as to wait out a single army encampment in such a way, let alone a youkai commander. Especially one with such a reputation. Her attention shifted towards the high-seated tower, watching the man with his spyglass for a few moments. 

“Yori,” she called up. The man lowered the spy glass and glanced down from the tower with a lofted brow. “You’ve seen -nothing- of note?” 

“If I had, I would tell you, Lady Kagome. I just told you that.” His tone was on the verge of a pout, made all the more amusing with his masculine baritone. The both of them had turned back to the ridge, though a squeak of wood from above had her flicker her gaze back up to find him standing on the foot bar of his chair. “Confirmation,” he breathed, free hand motioning her upwards though she didn’t need the gesture. Her hands were already on the arm rail of the watch tower, and she poised herself on the ladder when he handed her the spy glass and directed her toward the tree line. “Look for white.” 

The magnified image swept along the trees, seeing little and less of anything interesting; it was on the second pass she caught it. Like spying some sort of weird mystical creature, she caught the movement of long, silver hair disappearing behind one of the large trees. 

“Is tha-” she gasped, quickly scanning the line again to see where he might re-emerge. 

“It is,” he confirmed, nodding. 

“That’s no dog.” she muttered, catching a faint hint of the silvery tresses again while he passed behind another collection of trees and disappeared entirely into the forest beyond. It was fortunate he appeared to be so blessed with such bright strands; the rest of him all but disappeared in the shade through which he tread. 

“He’s a youkai, Lady Kagome. We both know that doesn’t mean he’s any less of a threat. Or at least any less capable of _becoming_ a dog.” 

“You don’t say,” she replied dryly, handing him back the spy glass. The matter of fact way in which he informed her of the obvious basics of youkai painted a vexed expression across her features, sending his cheeks red and his eyes downward. Realizing perhaps she had adapted too harsh a reaction for his well-intended nuggets of information, she sighed. “Either way, all we need to know is he’s there. Beginning to wonder just how much of a threat he is, though, making us wait like this.” 

By the second night, Kagome had sent each priestess to their bedroll for at least two hours, much to the dismay of the now pressure-cooked soldiers. Each time they saw the shimmer of the barrier shifting with the change of power as another priestess abandoned their post, the camp would become a sea of murmurs. She couldn’t blame them - it was taxing to be contained in such a way, just waiting for something to happen; death, survival, anything. She had suggested a number of times to the general and the lords whose men were gathered that they take the initiative, charge forward, yet she found no support. Morale was low as it was, and the reinforcements would be there by morning at the latest. Even the weight of her position didn’t have the inertia to move them. 

Dawn came that third day, and dawn passed on that third day. No flags could be seen, no thrum of marching feet. The army was late. What was even worse was that in the light of day it had become evident a number of tents had gone empty. Bedrolls, supplies and armor all gone, leaving those remaining to begin casting their attention opposite the youkai army and toward freedom as well. 

By noon, it had been decided to send out a scouting team with a priestess to try to find evidence of the approaching backup. It had been suggested that perhaps they had been lost, or maybe the pigeon had been shot down and they had not been informed of the urgency of their plight. Kagome would have opposed giving up one of her precious women, though in light of the situation and the white faces of the men going out, she understood that it couldn’t be helped; if there was ever a power weapon against a demon, it was a priestess. 

The ritual of approaching the edge of the barrier fell flat. No offer of assurance was given by the voice above her, letting silence reign between them in the dimming light of the day. It had been hours since the party had left when she decided to revisit her haunt, and the shadows were long and ominous across the grassy valley. Still, the demons milled. 

“Lady Kagome...” Her head turned to look up to him, finding no face greeting her but the hint of his form peering out over the forest. 

“Yes, Yori?” she replied finally, encouraging him to continue. 

“The Mother won’t let us die like this, will she?” his head finally turned to regard her, observing her widened eyes and startled expression. “Trapped under a bubble and staring death in the face. She’s not so cruel?” 

She was stunned to silence with such a frank inquiry. Morale had been low, she noticed. How could she not? But for such thoughts to be brandished like cold steel to a sworn enemy she couldn’t help but bring a hand to her chest, the beads of the rosary brushing against her pulse. “Of course... Of course not, Yori.” she finally replied carefully, “The Mother has mercy on all of us, she knows of our pain and struggles. She suffered them, too, at the hands of these creatures. She will protect us.” 

The answer didn’t bring a re-assured smile as she had hoped, the tired eyes turning back to the forest as her own did. They lingered in silence, the hush of the camp an eerie reminder of just how subdued the spirited human forces had become. She blinked, however, lips parting as she came to a realization. 

“Yori?” she inquired, earning an inquisitive grunt in reply. “Where are the clouds?” 

  
The man sat up and forward, turning his gaze to the quickly dimming sky and letting his mouth hang open in surprise. Perhaps it had been the endless hours of staring at a never changing sky that he hadn’t realized the shift, but the storm clouds characteristic of the Thunder Brothers had, indeed, gone missing. 

“Yori.” Kagome offered again, an edge coming to her once warm voice. “Ring the bell.” 

He scrambled for the warning bell, grabbing it up and lifting the hammer, though it was not the ring of the bell that sounded out but a hollow thump from above their heads. A wave of energy radiated from the roof of the shield where an object had collided with it, a mess dripping over the form of protection designed to let no unnatural, corrupted creature in. Those who had heard the sound or seen the ripple began moving toward the center of the camp to peer up at the object that had assaulted them, Kagome being no exception. In fact, she was possibly the most aggressive party to see what exactly had happened, though before she had even come to the epicenter she froze in her tracks. 

It was no weapon, not in the traditional sense. It was a figure. The form was laying curled and quiet for the moment on the top of the dome and it was a mystery as to how it remained suspended overhead so easily when strips of white and red fabric dangled and swayed in the wind… and short cropped raven hair - everything stained with blood. Kagome’s skin went pale, paler than it already had been as it dawned upon her what exactly she had been looking at. Her knees all but fell out from under her as the form actually moved, writhing and soon enough filling the air with a shrillish cry. 

“Mercy!” the woman’s voice called, terrified, “Have mercy on me! Please!” The voice cut through the silence like a hot knife, echoing across the ghostly field where men and women stood staring up at her helplessly with all but the occasional clatter of armor or snap of fabric against the breeze to accompany her. “I don’t want to die! Please!” 

‘What do I do?’ the priestess thought, hands fisted tightly at her sides and dark umber eyes focused in both fury and fear up to the figure who called for aid. ‘It could be a trick.. It must be. Nothing pure could be repelled by this field.’ Despite her calm demeanor her minds voice was frantic, her heart pounding in her chest though it stopped readily enough. 

“Lady Kagome! Lady Kagome, please!” the voice cracked, assaulted by the woman’s sobs, “Let me in! Have mercy!” An army of eyes turned to her, what ones that were not cast toward the ground or staring in disbelief to the woman up above. 

“Lady Kagome..” a man to her right began pleadingly, taking a step in her direction. She moved forward, closer to the center of the camp, with no regard to his movements. 

“How are you being repelled by the barrier?” she called up to the woman, reaching behind her to one of the arrows in her quiver while she shrugged her bow off of her shoulder. “Have you been cursed?” 

“Help me! Lady Kagome!” was the reply, yet the woman below was having none of it. Her composure remained collected, her tone even despite the volume at which she had to call out to the suspended woman above her head. 

“Speak quickly! Are you cursed? A specter? Or is there something else at play?” Her chest ached, stomach falling like it was filled with heavy stones as she watched the woman cry, thrusting herself about in random fits of spasms in violent attempts to free herself with animalistic grunts and screams before she would return to crying out for help. She could feel her very spirit ripped in two by the sight, yet there were hundreds, thousands of men all huddled under the protective barrier and - though she didn’t wish the decision would come to something so barbaric - she had to take into account the many, especially in the chance that the sacrifice for the few could be for naught if it truly was a trap. This was the way of war. 

“Youkai blood!” she bellowed, now on her back and getting dangerously close to the steeply declining curve of the domed shield. “T-They doused me in youkai blood! Lady Kagome, have mercy! Let me in! Do not forsake me!” 

The plucking sound of the string drawing back drew another snap of attention into her direction, hands lifted as if to stop her, though they hesitated. A priestess’s arrows could do many things, including putting a woman out of her misery and in this situation many of the soldiers would just as eagerly take a bolt to the head versus the claws and fangs of a youkai. At least the arrow would be fast. At least the arrow wouldn’t revel to your death throes. 

“Do not move!” Kagome yelled up, swallowing thickly as she secured her posture as best she could, the arrowhead of her weapon of choice taking on a golden shimmer as she infused it with purifying magic. “If you move you _will_ be stricken down, do you understand?” There was nothing but guttural sobs in return, yet she had visibly gone still, much to Kagome’s relief. It was a long shot, the distance was vast and she had to be spot on - the risk of potentially skewering a limb was the least of the woman’s worries while exposed on the outside of the shield - but so long as the arrowhead could touch at least a hint of the blood there was a chance she could purify it and let the woman fall through without exposing the rest of the army. If only the light had not retreated so heavily, the sun now dangerously low over the horizon and clouds beginning to collect overhead. Eyes widened in sudden realization, the bow string only growing tighter as she worked her best to solidify her aim. 

‘Please… _Please!_ ’ she pleaded, releasing the string with a thick ‘thwung!’ and sending the arrow flying with an explosion of gold, then purple light. The purifying energy was all but forgotten, however, as a thick, violent bolt of lightning collided with the surface of the barrier. Collided with the exact position of her trapped priestess dissolving both the figure and the arrow that collided with the blast of energy.

‘What monster… would do such a thing?’ but she knew the answer to that. The shield began to warp, bend, and crack under the assault, wound only deepening, growing more severe as time went on. Once the first bolt ebbed, another crashed down and against it with a delayed, deafening, crack and bowing the top of the dome further toward the ground. 

“Maintain your positions!” Kagome called, as loud as she could over the roar of panic that erupted within the camp. “Grab your weapons!” she cried, racing toward the barrier’s edge, following and trying to step in front of a retreating crowd of men, “And do not leave the barrier alone! Stay strong!” But it was to no avail. For every four men who were grabbing their weapons, three were rushing toward the forests opposite of the youkai army. The moment they erupted from the protection of the shield, youkai began to pour over them from every direction, devouring each that dared the trek without mercy and showering the once clean and fresh green grass with warm, sticky gore and viscera.

They were surrounded. On every side, surrounded. Through the warped rainbow of colors that was once their sanctuary, she recognized just how foolish she had been, and yet in the heat of this moment she found it hard to seek out and embrace regrets and sadness. She could only see the bloodied priestess’s robes, hear the ringing terror echoing through the valley air, and know of the deep-seated hatred that must have fueled such vicious, cruel and undeserving tactics. The songs that had once risen from campfires in days prior were replaced by cries of vengeance, roars of youkai on the hunt, and the final cries of good men and women as they fell prey to their worst nightmares realized.

Youkai collided angrily with the shield, wild and angry in time with the blasts of heated energy above. Their claws raking against the spiritual energy creating shining, brilliant fireworks that rained over the scurrying humans below and wracked the priestesses sustaining the shield with pain. If it hadn’t been for the absolute terror that awaited her on the outside of this shield, if it wasn’t for the bloodlust that coursed through the veins of these monsters, and if it wasn’t for the heat that pulsed through her from the very core of her being that cried out for justice for those who have been lost, will be lost, on this field of battle the light show could have been beautiful. She found herself walking toward the center of the camp again, bow in hand and bolt in the other as she came to stand beneath the dangerously low point of the electric blasts. She could nearly see with the naked eye the shimmering stress fissures formed there. She could definitely feel the pure heated energy radiating out and downwards causing the long black tresses to shift against her cheeks and brow, the white and red material of her attire to sway against her skin and armor. She could hear over the roar of death and rage the gentle clatter of the rosary beads against her armor. Warmth pooled into her fingertips as her hands began to lift, deftly slipping the bow into position with its slender partner nestled against it. Aiming the bow directly upwards and over her head her shoulders arched back and her posture opened, her own energy beginning to radiate out from the intricately carved arrowhead which now shone like a star in its own right. She waited patiently for the next blast, watching the violent wave lower the shield again before she finally let go and brought daylight to the night time sky.

They had drawn first blood, but she was sure to take the last. 


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

So many battles in the past had a rhythm. A heartbeat that was understood, a pulse that kept the attack in check and organized. Planned movements turned second nature, reflex as bodies moved in a violent dance across the field. A win or a loss, you did what you could to follow the beat in hopes for success. This was not one of those battles. 

Darkness had descended upon the field and yet daylight broke with every flash of lightning that crashed down from the heavens above, blasts of electric energy washing in thick beams in the field as the thunder brothers did what they did best: cause absolute devastation. The priestesses she would have expected to have taken them down had themselves fallen. Even more tragic, for as many as had fallen to demons, she found an equal number that had been trampled to death by the frantic soldiers who fled as soon as the barrier finally collapsed. 

The slaughter had left slick patches of soft ground, which created a slapping sound as her steps collided with the earth. Her once white feet were now crimson, the hem of her hakama now soaking in the thick mixture. Skidding to a halt, the priestess notched another arrow, aiming toward the closest, largest youkai to her position: a scaly serpent with bulging violet eyes that had coiled itself around one of the spearmen and was nearly ready to devour him whole. With an explosion of light, the body all but dissolved, leaving behind scraps of demon flesh and bone and a terrified soldier who scrambled to his feet to take off into the chaos. 

She had almost prayed for fire to have taken to the tents by now. At least that way her nightmare would be illuminated by something other than signs of the struggle they were putting up to survive. Blasts of youkai energy ripped through earth and body, destroying anything in their path. And yet, she fought back what she could with each shining arrow, though the ability to break down groups of demons was finding itself nearly useless with everyone so spread out. The field was wide, and they were served as if it was the youkai’s personal feeding trough. 

“Keep it together!” she called out, her voice a shadow of the power it once held before the past hour of screamed commands and encouragement. “We must stand strong!” Another outcry, accentuated by the hot violet light that cast itself over her features as she released another arrow to take down a flying mass of eyeballs soaring overhead. For every youkai that fell, another erupted from the darkness, slashing through the men. She herself had not gone unscathed; scratches littered her body, the once pure white and rich red now tainted with blood--that of youkai and human alike, in addition to her own--and the mud under her feet. 

Blinking a few times, she brought her wrist up to sweep over her eyes and rub away the blood that was beginning to drip into them from a particularly painful gash in her brow. Her vision was cleared just in time to find a set of fangs launching themselves at the aforementioned arm. Crying out in pain, she slammed her palm against the mole-looking beast and curled her fingers into the thick fur between its eyes, unleashing a blast of spiritual energy that sent the skull of the creature inwards and out through the bottom of its throat. The body dissolved afterwards as the purifying energy raced through it. 

The priestess stumbled back a few steps, tossing the long hair from her face and then lurching forward as she avoided the lightning blast that ripped through the ground behind her. All sides. All sides! Every time she looked up it was a reminder of her situation and how helpless she must appear. Each step gained was followed by a loss, and with the release of another arrow she growled to herself as the path she had cleared was filled again with new writhing bodies, bodies of her enemies. 

A flash caught her eye, accentuated by the upkick of soil as the head of a larger youkai slammed into the ground due to an assault from something she could only register as a silver streak. Turning quickly, she followed where she had suspected the assailant had ricocheted off. It was difficult to discern against the darkness of night, a glint of metal or the gleam of silver, but a well placed flash of lightning somewhere off and to her right that illuminated the battlefield and cleared her vision. 

In that moment, time slowed, and the world fell to a hushed hum. 

Gliding through the air as if it was his rightful place was a man with long, silver hair trailing behind him. It was a dog, though, or at least it looked as such in profile. A dog’s head attached to the figure of a human, and adorned in the armor she’d only seen on the highest ranking youkai. She could see so clearly even the drips of blood that fell from his claws, splattered across that pale mane of hair and glinted against the shining, ebony painted face. Painted? 

Its head turned at such a slow pace, she could have sworn he was mocking her. Those amber eyes stared at her in such a way, with such an intensity, she was sure that there was some sort of youkai enchantment at play, drawing every ounce of light around him to illuminate those eerie orbs. A chill went down her spine. 

Her hands found themselves on her weapons. The bow rose without a second thought as she drew back her first arrow aimed toward the man; he was still gliding over the chaos, though now turned in her direction. A breath, steady and slow, released through barely parted lips, and her fingers fell away from the feathers of her bow, allowing the bolt to erupt in violet light. It was an easy target. A sitting duck. He should not have been so foolish as to expose himself in such a way. 

Before she could lower her bow, he was five paces away. A skillful sway and demonic speed gave him the advantage with her telegraphed moves, and all of a sudden the world was sent into a breakneck forward motion. The sound of a feral roar erupted from the youkai as his blood-soaked claws sent golden streaks ripping through the air, aiming for her throat only to miss their mark when she performed a graceful sidestep of her own. She followed this with a blast of spiritual energy that collided with the back of his arm as he tried to bat it away, and he found his feet digging into the scarred ground beneath them. 

The priestess sprinted a few feet away before she turned back, working to load another bolt, but he was on top of her again. A series of quick slashes in swift succession had her discarding the arrow in exchange for a shield of spiritual energy erected against the assault and formed around the bow itself. Explosions of gold wrapping against neon pink, loud cracks and clashes intermixed with snarls, snorts and grunts from the dog had her nearly blind, her ears deafened to all but the pounding of her heart beat. 

He was fast! So fast! She was panting by the time she had finally gathered enough energy to hold him up with a single shield, thrusting her hand out to send a secondary flash of purifying magic into his chest that launched him backwards and onto his back with a flail of limbs. At least he was simply a demon, the youki radiating off of him was like nothing she had felt before, seeking to corrupt whatever surrounded him; no doubt this was a trick set up by either himself or the youkai lord who ruled over him. 

Taking the short reprieve, she loaded her next arrow and fired, the bolt digging itself into the ground he had just occupied, the energy of the sacred arrow releasing a loud hiss. He, on the other hand, was in the air again and overhead. Once more they were deadlocked, with his body suspended by the sheer force of their collision and her sustained barrier. Kagome could feel her feet beginning to sink into the dirt, the shield cutting into the earth and displacing rock and soil. Despite the turmoil of their colliding energies, she could still hear the distinctive snarl radiating from him. Umber eyes focused on the red painted frame of the golden gaze that glared back at her through the shadows of what she could now see was clearly a mask. The only thought that came to mind with this revelation was ‘Coward.’ 

She seized a sharp breath as he swept his free hand across the shield and pelted it with thick, crimson blades. Sweat dripped down her brow as she reached her own free hand up to grip the bow and try to reinforce her protection, but it was too little, too late. Another assault sent the top of the shield to pieces and blades ripping across her shoulders and face, the energy burning through her armor and searing into her flesh. Fingers loosened around the bow as she fell backwards from the attack, brows furrowing as her expression contorted in pain. She could almost feel the hot breath of the youkai dog’s gaping maws over her, regardless of how wooden they might be, and perhaps it was that sudden sense of urgency that kept her from becoming too distracted by her own pain to forget what further anguish he could bring. 

Landing on her back, she felt his presence above her immediately. His body was silhouetted against the bright flash of lightning that struck elsewhere on the field, golden daggers poised and careening for her face. Her own bloodied hands came to her chest where the talisman lay, fingertips brushing the golden frame and feeling the metal go hot with her presence as the center gem flashed a pink hue of purifying energy. Perhaps it was some sort of animalistic instinct that had him flinch away from the impending danger, but there was something still satisfying in hearing his howl as the beam of light cut through the top of his upper arm, taking a chunk of his armor with it.

The beast rolled to the side, flailing a bit as he gripped his arm and settled on his feet, though nearly to a knee, giving her just as much time to roll opposite of him and take up her bow again. Cocking another arrow, she fired, and he leapt out of the way, though only by a few feet. Another blast and he was hit, and while it only managed to graze his leg, she wasn’t about to be disappointed with it. 

He wasn’t to be on the run for long. Despite his injuries, he launched himself at her again, dodging two more arrows - albeit narrowly - and beginning another close-quarters assault. This time, she was ready. Each strike was met with a much more modest shield from her bow, swinging against his strikes to knock them back while her body moved as quickly as possible to avoid the second set of claws that would strike out from the other side. The pace of the dance was swift, steps taken in a small circle. She was the one moving backwards more than forwards, though, and he was still a venerable wall of force. 

It wasn’t until she was able to sidestep and turn away from one of his strikes that she gained the upper hand. Hooking her bow out she let his wrist slip right through it, pushing the bowstring and bow together as she pulled and braced the side of his body against her back. With the loss of his footing and his own momentum, she sent him barreling over her shoulder. Swiftly, she drew another arrow, notching it as he twisted like a feline in the air to land on his feet. Her aim followed as he leapt upwards and into the light of the moon, her gaze focused on those golden eyes framed in angry red. 

“Die, Dog!” she cried out, firing the arrow at last with a flash of violet light intertwined with the shikon jewel’s pure pink that trailed well and behind the weapon, sending a gust of air back and against her with the momentum. She had expected the arrow to cleave his head clean off of his shoulders, but something erupted from his hip. No! From his dormant sword! A shimmering shield of silver light radiated from the weapon, deflecting the arrow from a direct hit and diffusing the energy she had forced into it. The mask was not as fortunate as the owner; it shattered violently, sending his head jerking back and his body crashing to the ground with the force and shock of the assault. 

Her tongue skated across her filthy lips as she reached back for another arrow to finish the job, yet her fingertips brushed the inside of the quiver without a fletching to be found. Brows furrowed as she hissed a curse, now hastily looking this way and that over the clearing the battle had permitted them in their violent fight. ‘There must be one.. there must be one somewhere...’ 

Motion from the corner of her eye drew her attention back to the man who was now climbing to his feet, pulling a piece of splintered wood from his cheek with a snarl and she was hit with a sudden realization. The youki.. The youkai energy was gone. There was no longer a swirling, violent draw of corruption coming from the man but instead a far more subdued aura. It was still there, but only a fraction. He was...

“A hanyou?” she murmured. The twin silver lobes poking out from behind sweat matted bangs turned her way, and the eyes lifted to glower at her. His face contorted into a snarl, though far from the devilish degree of the mask he had once worn. Even the markings she so often saw adorning the face of humanlike youkai were smeared and dripped down due to the perspiration that imposed a sheen across his skin. The Wild Dog was a hanyou! ‘No matter,’ she thought, meeting his glower as they began to circle one another slowly, his claws at the ready and her hands poised on her bow, ‘Without that mask, he is nothing.’ 

The jingle of beads and fang against armor was a reminder of her threat days ago, and her hand came up to clasp it. The subjugation beads, of course! Now that things appeared to be at a stalemate, there was no better time to subjugate the dog. With or without an arrow, putting an end to his reign of terror would be easy from here on out; without the youkai energy the mask had emanated, he surely wasn’t a match anymore. 

“What?” he called out, those ears flicking backwards then forward again as his lips curled into a cocky smirk to reveal glinting white fangs. “Stunned to silence knowing a hanyou’s been kickin’ your ass up and down the field, bitch?” The sound of his joints popping as he flexed his fingers in preparation for an assault was oddly audible over the roar of the nearly forgotten battle around them. His face would have been amusing in light of her plan if it still didn’t hold an eerie severity, eyes looking bloodshot along the edges with a deep shade of crimson leaving a halo of white around those twins of amber. Not like anything she’d seen in her years of training, but one often didn’t find hanyou this hearty, either. 

A finger hooked into the beads, tugging them from her armor and causing that cocky smirk to subside as quickly as it came, his growl returning as his ears folded back. A curious look at the beads marked a moment of distraction, and she took the opportunity to lift her free hand and send a quick wave of energy in his direction. Or, more accurately, at the direction of his feet, which sent him airborne. 

“Keh! Where are you aiming!?” he taunted, and Kagome suddenly missed the nearly silent opponent she had been fighting earlier. 

Letting the beads drape around her wrists she brought her hands together, tips of her index and middle fingers touching while the rest interlocked. Focusing, she began the enchantment spell, murmuring the ancient chant and feeling the beads warm as they lifted from her wrists. The rosary was the same pure pink as the energy she had come to recognize from the shikon jewel, a sight she imagined must make the hanyou nervous as he took right back to the air upon landing, moving to circle her rather than charge. Regardless of his motion, there was no stopping the process. One by one, each bead erupted from the chain with loud cracks and pops, seeking out the neck of their target, and one by one, they fell back into place. Once the last bead was set, her body turned to face him where he came to land again, hands thrusting forward as she cried out.

“Subjugate!” A smirk came to her features this time, brows lowered and expression sure, though it faltered as he merely stood there pulling at the beads around his neck that flashed and hissed in protest. “S-Subjugate!” she called again, thrusting her hands out once more. Still, nothing happened, other than him beginning to chew on the beads in a futile attempt to relieve him of their burden.

‘It didn’t work!’ she panicked, taking a step back and snatching up the bow she had shoved into the dirt to commit to her chant. ‘Does it not work on hanyou?’ He was turning his attention back toward her now, coming on the offensive with the beads forgotten. Without the true intention of the spell realized, it was back to business and she was on the retreat. Without her arrows, the best she could do was hold him off and the roar of the battle didn’t seem as though it was going to end in the favor of the humans. If she was to survive, she needed to either slip away or destroy this army at the head by relieving him of his. 

The chase was a violent one. Every time she thought she had found another arrow, he was there, slicing at her. Blood blades, golden strips of energy, even fangs and claws were in her way, and she was growing exhausted from exertion. She was skidding from place to place now, running in circles to avoid his assaults, on occasion beating them back only to gain a few feet more. The situation was growing more dire; all she needed was... An arrow! 

Opposite of her in the clearing, she could see the fletching of one of the earlier arrows she had fired at him still poking out from the dirt. She just had to get past the hanyou now standing between her and her freedom. The cries of her men were all but silenced; she didn’t have any time! She had to make a break. 

‘If only those beads had worked..’ she hissed internally, watching as he began to lower in an animalistic fashion, preparing another assault, ‘If only he was a real dog, this’d be so much easier..’ Silver ears rotated back, pinning against the blood-splattered hair that lead to the high ponytail that wagged much like a dog’s tail might with the sprint he launched into. At least in her final hour, she might have one source of amusement. 

“You’re not even a real Youkai!” she belted out, causing his footing to falter and his eyes to widen with the sudden declaration, his expression completely flabbergasted. “Just, Just..!” she continued against the roar of his annoyed snarl. 

“Oi! Shut up and let me kill you already!” he ground out violently, brandishing shimmering claws as he prepared to rip her clean in two.

“Just osuwari!” She called out, racing in his direction in turn, though she hadn’t expected to see the subjugation beads light up as they had, nor had she expected his body to collapse as it did: face first into the ground. Leaping over his head, she landed on his back with one foot and leapt over his legs to reach the ammunition behind him. Sliding to a stop, she plucked the arrow from its muddy quiver and turned, taking aim toward his back as he jerked himself to his knees and whipped his head around to snarl at her. 

He was defenseless, his back to her, disoriented and exposed. This was it, the battle was won! Her fingers began to release the pressure on the fletching of her arrow, tongue retreating from wetting her lips one last time and carrying the metallic taste of blood and the grit of filth. This was the end, and she could see it in those defiant eyes of his, the slightly downturned curve of his lips, the tension in his posture. 

But then why, on the cusp of victory, did the world suddenly begin to move? She was thrown forward, off of her balance with the sudden pressure and heat of energy behind her. Her head made move to turn, to look over her shoulder at whatever had taken advantage of her lowered guard, but the task was proving difficult. Everything descended to darkness just as quickly as it had erupted into light moments ago. 


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

It was dark, and the surface beneath her cheek was a modest degree of soft. Her skin felt sticky and yet crusty., slimy with old sweat, dried blood, and flaky mud. She lay there, body numb for the moment and head crying out in agony as she stared at the wood grain across from her with half-lidded eyes. Greasy raven strands distorted the image, not that there was much to see in the cramped space where she was loosely curled into a fetal position. 

Her head turned slowly to look over her shoulder at the wooden barred window that lead to the outside world. All she could make out was tree cover with the occasional hint of cloudy skies above, but it wasn’t the visual stimulation that she found interesting - it was the relative silence. The bounce and steady pace of her current prison made it easy to determine she was on some sort of cart being pulled by a hoofed creature, though whether or not it was a horse, she couldn’t be sure. The tell-tale sounds of marching men were obvious as well, but there wasn’t any vast number as if it was an army. Too many to count, too few to keep from contemplating whether or not she could break away. 

‘No.’ she thought, fingers curling into her palm with dulled nails scraping along the rough stitching of the cushion under her. ‘I’ve no idea where I am. They’d kill me regardless.’ Lowering her head back down she released a slow, jagged breath. The pounding in her head was making it hard to think, rattling against the inside of her skull and sending pulses of shadow into her vision. How long had it been since she’d eaten? Taken a sip of water? Was it the day after the battle or days? 

This was all too much, she decided, and she returned to sleep. 

It was nighttime when she was awoken again. A frog-like little man was standing in the open doorway of the modest box, silhouetted by the firelight of the camp behind him. 

“Get up,” he barked, thrusting out another kick toward her back. This only earned him a seized breath, the small body of the woman curling into itself further. She didn’t want to get up. She didn’t want to move. “You need to eat. Get up,” he demanded again, approaching and leaning over her, though he could see little through the shadows of the container. 

‘Eat?’ she thought mirthlessly, ‘Why feed the animal you’re just going to kill? What a waste of resources.’ Her body ached too much for this, her head throbbed too heavily. 

She would not be so fortunate as to avoid a meal by morning. The door opened again, having been closed at some point in the night, and her shoulder was yanked toward the straw as she was forced to her back. A strong grip took her jaw and pulled it down to the sound of much protest somewhere outside of her musty home-away-from-home. Then she was drowning. Sputtering and coughing, she convulsed up and into the waterskin that was filling her mouth with fresh, cold water. A hand grabbed for it though she froze, instantly regretting the action as her muscles cried out in pain. Flopping back down onto the cushion, she flinched as a loaf of bread collided with the wall behind her and landed on her head, bouncing to her lap. The door was promptly slammed and more yelling could be heard; she was still in too much of a daze to understand a word of it. 

Turning the now soggy waterskin in her hands, she peered down at it, her other hand coming to take up the loaf of bread. The silence that had fallen over her tiny cell was pierced by the demanding snarl of her empty stomach, and yet she tossed both items to her left, flopping onto her right side and curling back into a ball opposite of the door. 

They were going to execute her. Seize her life from her on their terms, and if she had anything to do with it she’d at least try her best to steal that from them. 

As soon as she closed her eyes, it felt as if she was forced to open them. Sleep never eased her wounds as well as it did outside of the box, and it was painfully evident that she was in need of such when a hand gripped her arm and dragged her from her spot. Onto the ground she fell, circled by four sets of feet in various states of dress and animalistic form. Claws and nails, toes ranging from two to five… she didn’t dare look up to see what was around her. The sun was hot on her back, heavy over the matted and thick fabric of her attire. She could smell her own perspiration, her own stench from days of her weaving in and out of unconsciousness, so it was no surprise when, after a short, dragged trek, she found herself at the edge of what she had assumed was a river - the reflecting light and swaying motion was plenty of a suggestion. When had her eyes become so bad? 

Grunting, she arched her neck back as her long ponytail was pulled upon, a strong arm coming across the front of her shoulders and dragging her toward the river’s edge. The voice was deep, a man’s, and it sounded angry but she couldn’t make out the words. A second, higher pitched tone chimed in, but was quickly silenced by a barked command. Then, things got wet. 

Her whole face was initially submerged, her limbs fighting against the pain of her injuries and lack of nourishment to fight off the assailant. Was this it? They weren’t even going to make a show of it? Just drown her in the middle of the forest and leave her for the animals to devour, for time itself to bury her bones deep within the youkai lands? How she regretted not having at least a bite of that bread; at least she would have been able to put up more of a fight. 

Light returned to her blurred vision and she found her eyes as wide as her mouth as she greedily inhaled a deep breath of air. Gasping, coughing, she tugged against the grip on her hair and felt only resistance. The beads of cold water shocked her system, the muffled voices going in and out of understanding. Dull umber eyes tried to tune her vision in such a way as to make out her captors, her surroundings, and squinted closed as she felt her head shoved downward again, only to find the tip of her chin submerged and the water’s surface kissing her lips. 

“Drink.” 

Her lips opened and she let the water pour in, gulping down as much as she could manage. A startled cough and shudder rocked through her as her stomach clenched, a thirst beyond comprehension assaulting her and her gulping becoming more urgent. Hands once too weak to lift in protest now reached forward and into the mud of the riverbank, dragging her body further over the water and earning the release of the arm around her shoulders, yet she could still feel the pressure of the fingers gripping onto the long black tresses. 

After a few minutes of indulging herself, she felt the hair tighten at her scalp and her body was pulled from the water - muddied fingers reaching out for it still and yet there was little she could do as her arms were taken on either side and she was pulled back towards the rest of the group and her cage. Eyes tightened closed against the sunlight, and she was pulled now with her back facing the earth. Her head pounded loudly in her ears, stomach sloshing back and forth with its new charge and yet she couldn’t say it was an entirely uncomfortable feeling. The first time of fullness in however long it had been since she had last peered over a valley of youkai and wondered when her fate would be decided. 

The sunlight was blocked out suddenly as she was shoved back into the confining space, knees pushed up to her chest, and yet it wasn’t the prison itself but a shadow that came over her and blocked out the shining blue sky beyond. Her jaw was grabbed in that bruising grip and forced open, a rock of crusty bread shoved between her teeth and then ground through the help of the abuser’s hold. Up and down, up and down. Under her chin went their palm, and a message to her throat sent the scratchy mush down; she gagged. Weakly, she pushed the hands away to have her own filled with the remainder of the loaf. By the time she focused enough to look outward the door had slammed again, darkening her world. 

Swallowing thickly, she felt the wood against her shoulder blades slip along while she slid to fall back to her side, loaf of bread still in hand and her hair and face still sodden from the river. A fresh scent amidst the foul stink of her situation. Slowly the loaf was lifted and pushed past her lips. A modest bite. Then another. 

She wanted to be able to fight.

The times that they would come for her were hardly regular. The treatment, always rough and urgent. They gave no care to whether she was asleep or awake, eating or not when they had more bread for her, water, demanded a bath or decided she needed to relieve herself; she was pulled out and dragged wherever she was required. The youkai were different each time - lizard creatures, cats, birds, but oddly no dogs that she could readily see. By the second day of eating, she was on her feet again without failure - able to walk alongside rather than being dragged and stumbling. What little food they offered did wonders in that area. Baths were no more than being dunked in a river or lake and pulled out, and her time to relieve herself, or try to, was short before impatience demanded she be locked up once again. Not once was she allowed to do anything without at least one set of eyes on her. Not once was she allowed dignity. This was war. Even in her weakened state, she was still a threat. 

On the third day since she resolved to prepare herself for the inevitable fight, the fifth since the battle, the usual sound of silent plodding was pierced by the call of the city walls they were approaching. Her body twisted about to roll over, and she shuffled on her knees with the top of her head tapping the ceiling of the box as her hands came to wrap their fingers around the wooden bars. With her cheek against her wrists, she turned her face just enough to be able to see the towering walls growing larger on the horizon. 

‘The capital..’ she thought. She had never once dreamed she would be here, not without the city burning to the ground in some fashion, yet here she was, witnessing it in all of its grandeur. 

The modest caravan came to a stop outside of the massive wooden gates. Each of the twin doors was outlined in steel frames, bolts as big as a man’s head placed a few feet apart, with the total height of each door being taller than most buildings she knew of back home - probably at least four stories tall. Both doors sported a massive iron bull, their horns touching against the seam where the doors met. Chains draped down and over their backs, a thick curtain that rested over detailed musculature and defied the whipping multiple tails of the beast of burden. The sheer scale of the structure was humbling, but it was the sound it made - a loud, monstrous groan as they merely parted a fraction from one another - that sent a chill down her spine. If she were to ever escape from this place alive, she would have to inform the generals back home that they would need far larger battering rams. 

She hadn’t known what to expect to see once the looming presence of the gate exited her vision, though it was obvious upon feeling her brows lift into her thick bangs that she had not expected this. The city looked very much like one she would have seen at home - the businesses and homes had architectural differences, pillars that left many rooms open air, but all the same there were no mud and brick huts. No fires upon which humans were roasting on a spit. The youkai walked the streets hand in hand with children, herding sheep or leading cattle. Despite their shapes and varying sizes, they all were dressed in a range from armor to simple tunics and sandals. It was a while before she came to realize that a number of the citizens she had been eyeing over were also staring straight back at her, tugging their children from her sight or glaring in her direction that she suddenly felt all too foreign. Pursing her lips, she urged her chest to stop burning so hotly, her heart to stop trying to tear from her chest. 

Another gate came to pass - a little shorter than the first, but massive nonetheless. The bulls here were more intricately carved, artistically rendered with scars and all to the point that she was sure they were living youkai intended to keep a cruel and constant vigil. Once on the other side of this inner wall, she found her jaw was nearly in her lap. If the modest open air homes from before had been a surprise, these buildings made those feel like the mud huts she had thought to see. Each wall was a piece of artwork in its own right. Balconies were draped with fine silks and sheer fabrics, jewels and crystals dangled extravagantly from poles outside of doorways; finally, things she recognized as signs of status and declarations of privileged positions. There were fewer creatures in armor here, less livestock and more finely dressed individuals. Humanlike or massive animals, their hair seemed neatly groomed and adorned with gems, their clothing fitted and intricately designed. Their attention on the cart was far more direct. They lined the path on which she was lead and cried out their distaste for her, roars of rage and curses in tongues she didn’t know. Rocks pelted the wooden box, sending her careening back and toward the wall furthest from either window, knees hugged to her chest. She couldn’t help but flinch each time a particularly large and loud thump would send a shudder through the wood. The guards did little to stop the assault, if anything at all. 

The third loud groan of the gates and booming thud of their closing behind the cart brought a cease to the onslaught. This time, the cart stopped, and she found herself easing back toward the window only to have the door in which it was formed swung open. She found herself face to face with the toad-like youkai and his big, bulging yellow-green eyes. His lips contorted a moment, tiny nostrils flaring and he released a loud, dramatic scoff that sent her own expression into one of annoyance. 

“Did anyone even attempt to prepare you?” came a disgruntled whine, the little man plodding further into the box and beginning to wrap the end of a rope around her wrists without any complaint from the priestess. “I’m sure the Lord could smell you from the gates. I’m  _ sure _ of it.” The woman offered a slight grunt as the rough ropes were tightened, testing them herself with a tug just to have his leathery hand slap the back of her arm roughly enough to leave a red print. “Now stop that, you!” he chided, climbing out of the box and pointing to two decorated guards; one looking to be some mixture of lizard and man, while the other looked as human as she save for the pointed ears, violet hair, and otherworldly violet eyes. 

Both men took an arm, hooking their hands under her armpits and hoisting her from the box, giving her full view of the courtyard. All she had time to observe was the tall archway of the castle entrance before she was drinking in the exotic sights of the inside of a burlap sack fitted for her head. ‘ _ Now _ they blind me,’ she mused bitterly. Eyes would have been wonderful to begin observing a potential exit, memorizing the turns and twists of the cold castle she was tugged through. They would have also been fantastic for avoiding the various times her toes caught on a step or her footing was made difficult by a sharp turn. 

The grips on her arms tightened and pulled her to a stop abruptly. Between the two they spoke some foreign language of snarls and growled words, and she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d ever heard it before. In her time fighting the youkai she’d never come across orders yelled outside of her own tongue; where was this dialect coming from now? 

Thoughts on speech were cut abruptly short as light returned to her world and she found herself with her nose nearly pressed to the intricately decorated red and gold doors in front of her. So close she couldn’t make out the actual designs that spread out beyond the dog’s face that was staring right back at her, ruby eyes boring into her own. The familiarity struck her and she parted her lips in surprise. It was the face on the mask! Gold and not black, of course, but the red lined eyes and that long, gnarled and dagger-toothed grin? Definitely the likeness. Perhaps this dog was a symbol of war, though one would venture to wonder why any leader who wished the best for their people would adorn so permanently their castle with such symbols. 

Despite her best efforts to prepare herself for the inevitability of the door opening, she found herself flinching when the golden face cracked down the center and the doors swung open slowly and silently. The room on the other side was massive, to say the least. The walls were tall, curling over like waves of blood speckled with gold into vaulted ceilings grander than any temple she had seen. Each vault was decorated with a large window near the peak of the top of the wall, where vertical met curve, and from below each window draped a fabric panel, and before each panel sat a statue - one of four - that stood proud and evenly spaced along the length of the room. A bull, a slender bird, a cat, and a spider, all carved out of smooth stone. It was when she was halfway through the room that she realized that there was not just the lord at the end, but a crowd of people on the left and right of the room, hidden in the shadows cast by the windows that sat high above their heads. Were they all here to see her execution, or were they here to be her jury? They were eerily silent, glowing eyes watching her lonely trek to stand twenty paces from the foot of the first of three steps leading up to the throne upon which their lord sat. 

She couldn’t help, at first, but to look past the man and to the horned throne itself. It reached for the sky above his head, nearly dwarfing him - looking to be built for one much larger than himself. Behind the throne stood the statue of a howling dog with a mane thick and curled like clouds flowing over its massive shoulders. From the open maws draped crimson fabric off to either side of its form, held up again by two slender rods that created a frame for the throne it protected. This all lead her back to the seat, and the Lord with his piercing golden eyes and thin, disapproving lips. Long hair draped over his shoulders and back over a thick fur mantle, making spider webs of shimmering silver strands that stood in stark contrast to the cream colored fur cloak. The cloak itself was fastened into place with two intimidating metal shoulder guards that wrapped around his form midway down his upper arms adorned with sharp horns every few inches along. His attire was similar to what she had spied on the Dog’s and yet different, more intricate and ceremonial in appearance. Not much of the man’s dou could be seen under the thick fluff of his cloak, but she could make out tassels and carvings that poked out from underneath, the sash tied at his waist sending long flowing tails of golden fabric over his white covered legs. The fabric looked soft even to the touch from her position below him. The only distinct lack of armor she noticed was the lack of kote as the man’s arms and hands seemed to be completely free of hindrance further showing his pale skin and sharp, long claws. The same markings she could see the hanyou had affected at their first battle were present on this man’s face, accompanied by a violet moon over his brow that was accented by the addition of gems in descending size on either side of the celestial body and disappearing under the thick bangs. Upon his head was a twisted crown, hooked horns poking upwards and a violet gem cradled in its metal arms. This man saw himself as no lord, but a king, and how wrong was he truly? 

The Lord’s head turned slowly, eyes peeling from her to regard his left where a door was opened behind the red drapes that framed the throne. From the shadows came the first familiar face she’d seen in what felt like days, yet there was no feeling of relief or happiness, only the churn of rocks in the pit of her stomach. His armor was the same, the black dou accented with a thick, layered steel sode on the right shoulder, the hooked armor on the left, with golden silk wrapping the center steel guard over his chest and similarly colored tassels dangling from its hooks. The han kote covering his lower arms were thick and metal plated, with angry curved spikes - like vicious fangs - arching up and away from the backs of his hands, giving him a more intimidating presence. As if he truly needed it. His far-more-visible black matching haidate, given that he was standing and not covered almost entirely in fur, were in four angled, softly pointed panels, versus her own flat, rectangular panels. They reached to just about two inches above the knee and were partially hidden under the gold sash that draped over his legs to tie behind him and also flow freely in two long tails down his front. His hakama, unlike the lord king’s, stopped at his knees versus his ankles, halted by the tall knee armor and suneate poised over metal that echoed through the massive hall with each step he took. The hakama and haori he seemed to wear under it all wasn’t the red she had seen before, however. It was exchanged for a pure white affair that was decorated with red arching streaks, these wrapping from the back of his legs along the outsides of his thighs to disappear beneath his haidate; similarly, the red slashed over his shoulders toward the collar of his haori where the violet beads and tan fangs of the subjugation rosary rested. His face was framed with the same silver tresses, if not a paler grey than that of the lord’s, the longest strands tied back and into a high ponytail behind his head. Cheeks were re-painted with the same violet stripes as well, now crisp and clean, and the amber eyes she had glared into so heatedly before were lined more distinctly with dark black, making them look narrower and more exotic still. The main difference between the two men was that one of them was armed, and the other appeared not to be, though the blade at the Dog’s hip looked ratty and unkempt, and - now that she thought of it - the weapon hadn’t once been drawn in their last engagement.

When he ascended to stand beside the throne, a step below the throne’s own, she found herself forced to her knees with two hands firmly on her shoulders. One appeared on the back of her head to force it down as well and into a more formal bow of respect as the lord’s eyes returned to her. 

“So this is the human who has been thwarting our advances?” the deep, rumbling tone of the lord rolled over her like a wave of ice cold water. The river could take a lesson from this chill that sent goosepimples over her skin. “This is who our people have grown to concern themselves with?” There was silence for an extended moment, her gaze so focused on the fibers of the red carpet beneath her she couldn’t tell if he seemed amused or annoyed with this information. 

“Let me see the face of the one who so shamed this Sesshoumaru’s general.” The grip on her head tightened into her hair and pulled her head back quickly, contorting her smeared and filthy expression into one of pain. Defiantly she set her brows low over her own eyes, pulling her lips back against her teeth and bearing that she, despite herself, was not going to whimper or shrink under his scrutiny. The task seemed a difficult one to keep up, however, as with every raking pass of those eyes of his, it felt as if he was peeling back another layer of her very being. The clothing, the skin, the muscles, the soul held within; he was dismantling every part of her and it made her skin crawl and her stomach threaten to force her to retch. She would have been thankful for the interest he took away from her form if it hadn’t been for the fact his focus was now on the talisman still hanging from her neck. 

“Where is the Shikon Jewel?” he asked frankly. His question went without reply and he resumed staring at her face again, repeating once more with no more volume to his tone but somehow a stricter command, “Where is the Shikon Jewel, woman?” Again, he went unanswered, and the weight of his attention shifted to the lizard guard to her right who nodded, following the subtle motion of the long clawed finger of Lord Sesshoumaru to the talisman. 

On reflex, she tried to move away from the encroaching three fingered hand, a sound of protest escaping her, but it was all pointless. The moment the scaled digits brushed up against the golden frame, an electric shock of resistance issued up the guard’s arm and sent him stumbling back in pain, his free hand gripping the assaulted limb as it sizzled angrily. She herself breathed out a breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding, looking from the guard to the lord who didn’t seem phased at all by the development. 

“General.” The hanyou at the side of the throne looked up from the corners of his eyes, lips thinning a bit while his right ear flicked in the direction his title had come from. When the shorter man didn’t move, the lord turned his attention as well, “Perhaps your typical disadvantages may prove useful in this affair.” The priestess and dog looked to one another, his expression none too pleased with the situation and all but a reflection of her own. Huffing out a breath through his nostrils he made his way down the remaining steps and came to approach her with a hand outstretched for the talisman, though he hesitated a moment. Her body slowly eased backwards and away yet there was nowhere to go with the arm that still held her in place keeping her in the shadow of the hanyou. The hand began to hover higher than the talisman and to the leather that tied it around her neck though, he paused again when he noticed the curl of her lips into a smirk. His own nose crinkled and brows lowered, releasing a snort over top of the low growl that began to resonate from his clenched fangs. 

“ _ General, _ ” the lord’s tone was acrid, “If you fear her so, I assure you she is restrained this time; she shall not defeat you so easily again.” The shadowed walls of the court fell into a hushed laughter, even the lord’s stoic expression revealing a slight upturn of the right corner of his lips, yet it was the face directly in front of hers that had her uneasy. His cheeks burned red even through the layer of powder he wore, the heat in those catlike eyes suffocating as he melted a violent glare into her and she lost that smirk. This monster could strike her down here and now and she was not entirely sure the court and their lord would be terribly upset at the turn of events. Finally, he reached out to grab for the leather, only to have it flare up in the same light-show as the talisman, sending him stumbling back a step or two and staring down at his hand. Turning toward the throne he looked up to Sesshoumaru who nodded lazily. 

“If she will not tell us of the location of the jewel which rightfully is ours, and we are not able to liberate her of her power source, then we have no further use for this creature.” A delicate hand lifted, the long sleeve of his attire swaying with the motion as he made move to signal one of the youkai up above, poised in one of the massive open windows with a horn in hand. “Alert the citizens, we shall execute her at sundo-” 

“Wait!” the dog barked, a hand held out in a physical gesture for the lord to stop. Undeterred by the glower he was receiving, the hanyou stepped toward Sesshoumaru and pointed back behind him to Kagome, “Do you know what that would do? You’d turn her into a damned martyr! Once word gets back to those humans, they’ll not just be infuriated, they’ll be empowered by the ‘sacrifice’ she’ll have made!” 

“You fear the humans so much, do you?” Sesshoumaru questioned, hands coming back to both rest on the clawed arms of his throne, a hitch of amusement tugging at his voice. The hanyou merely shook his head, thrusting a fist to his chest over his heart. 

“I fight for my kingdom as viciously as anyone, no matter the trials I may face, but it is needless to cause these battles to become any more difficult when we don’t have to. Their spike in spirit will just make taking them down more annoying and lengthen our time out there. I’ve seen what a cause can do to spur them first hand, Sessh-” 

“ _ My Lord, _ ” he was corrected harshly, “And you speak out of turn, as well as disrespectfully. If you cannot handle your task, then you should be relieved of it at once, shouldn’t you?” The threat was felt even to the priestess, yet the dog did not relent. 

“I’m doing what is necessary for our cause, as you sho-” Again, he was cut off, this time by the lord standing, a gust of wind pushing all before him to ease back on their own feet, or knees in her case. 

“Do not dare to suggest I am not doing what is right for my people and our cause,  _ hanyou! _ ” This tone caused the smaller man to falter, lowering just a fraction with one foot slipped back in a halfhearted ease to a noncommittal knee. Sesshoumaru’s brows lowered slowly over his piercing eyes, the sharp claws of his right hands beginning to shimmer to life with a toxic green hue and appeared to be ready to lash out had it not been from the shift in the shadows off and to his right. The lord’s attention shifted lazily to the movement, disarming himself with the welcome distraction. 

“It is the belief of your council,” the smooth voice offered, leaning a low bow over the arm of the throne behind the lord king in respect, “that the general has the right of things. We do not wish to potentially postpone the realization of our goals any further, my Lord. To keep her alive but trapped within our walls will do more to show how powerless both she and they are to stop our might. Their most powerful weapon against us is at our mercy.” He lowered further, the masculine silhouette from the shadows of the throne, taking to a knee with the hint of a skull of a monkey of some sort peeking out and into the light. “It is, in the end, your decision, of course. Let the Crane soar through your thoughts and the Dog see your hand be swift and just.” 

Sesshoumaru turned back toward the four figures before him, focusing first on the priestess, then drawing his heavy gaze to the dog who was doing his best to avert his gaze lest the lord decide to take a tantrum from his defiance. Releasing a scoff, the man began to slowly step down toward the hanyou, long cloak of fur trailing behind him and now showing the true length and fullness of its form. Stately fingers reached out to hook delicately under the violet beads that dangled from the dogs neck, giving his eyes a chance to observe them. “You will not be returning to the field until your replacement mask has been completed. I shall tolerate no more ill temper from you.” With lips parted, the hanyou had been about to speak when the beads were taken into a tight grip and yanked downwards, forcing the dog-eared man to take a proper knee with a grunt of protest at the harsh treatment. Regardless, he bowed his head and fell to silence. 

“As for you,” he continued, stepping to the dog’s side and stopping there, fully facing the priestess: still on her knees, covered in the filth of her travels and battles and draped with the long black tangles of her own hair. “My council speaks wisely. You are a high ranking threat against us, the highest if I do be so bold as to say, and even in this crippling defeat for our general, we have still been able to clip your claws and dull your fangs. There is no reason to put you behind bars, to hide you from sight; you are a prize to be shared with our people and a symbol of our awesome power. You will serve that which your people so despise, that has spilled so much of their blood across your soil for your very crops to soak up and bask in.” His eyes lowered to his right, his head turned to regard the back of the man beside him and she felt her muscles tighten. 

‘No!’ her mind’s voice gasped, her arm tugging for the first time at her restraints. He wouldn’t be so cruel! Not even the ‘Lord King of the Youkai’ would be so cruel! 

“What greater dishonor is there than to survive defeat and be forced into the servitude of an enemy who is so tainted and low within his own society, he is fit for nothing but war?” The twin ears folded back against the long white hair, a low growl radiating from the hunched figure, but it went ignored as the lord Sesshoumaru turned to make his way back to his mighty throne. “Prepare her for her service without concern for her powers. This entire city is warded against the use of her magics; she is as powerless as...” he paused, turning and seating himself with such a mildly amused grin that still sat with such an alien appearance it made her stomach turn over. “Well, as a human.” 

Her body twisted and protested as she was dragged to her feet, though still her voice was silent. She would not give him the satisfaction of her screams, her anger made audible, but she had to at least fight their grip. She had to dig in her bare feet as she was dragged back through those massive halls and out of his line of vision. 

There was no burlap sack this time. No point in hiding the pathways of the halls as they pulled her past countless wall-high windows and through the bowels of the castle. She spied the small frog man go barreling past them and down the hall, calling out that there was much to prepare and to not delay and indeed there was very much. She was pulled into a room that she could only guess was on the far side of the castle from the throne room by the amount of time it had taken to get there. It was dark and dank with only lanterns to light the near-blackened wood paneling. There were heating stoves filled with unused coals and a pit for steam that she could make out in the light, but there was no water being heated, no care for her comfort in the process of scrubbing her of her identity. 

The first task was a violent theft of her armor - buckles and ties were cut or bent to make removal easier with each piece discarded or crushed underfoot. The layers of ceremonial clothing came next, her arms doing their best to cover her modesty as she was exposed layer after layer - but to no avail - before she was doused with bucket after bucket of freezing water while rough spun cloths were raked over her naked skin carrying suds of a neutral scent. She had given little protest outside of trying to cover herself until she felt a familiar tug on her hair and the sound of metal drawn from a sheath. 

“No!” she sounded, jerking her head forward, lashing out at the youkai still trying to clean her body, “No, stop!” her hands raced up to try to tug at her hair and give her roots some relief but she found them restrained, “Don’t!” her voice was now to a shriek, eyes wide and cheeks flushed with anger and embarrassment. Her hair was the symbol of her training, her prestige. Training called for not cutting the long tresses in any way to be closer to the image of the fallen mother, to the image of regality; for each year one studied the arts of the priestess, they let their hair grow long and full, and it was a prized representation of her trials and victories. Her pride in her work and her way of life. They knew this! They had to! 

A sharp yank and the sound of the strands being sliced was louder than any youkai’s roar. The end of the hair curled around her feet and her wide eyes soaked in the sight of the sodden raven tresses, swaying limp and heavy in the puddles of water now tainted with her filth. Her toes curled, fingers tucking up and against her palms as she felt her hair begin to be washed. She wasn’t sure if it was the relieved feet of hair or the brushing of her new hair length against her shoulders that made her head feel so light. When her eyes began to burn she clenched them closed, jaw tightening. 

‘You will not cry,’ the priestess chided herself, ‘You will not show them that you have been wounded. Stop it, Kagome. Stop.’ She found herself thankful for the next wash of cold water over her head to rinse away the suds from her hair as well as whatever tears had threatened to escape the thick black lashes of her eyes. 

She didn’t bother to cover herself anymore, nor did she bother to fight what was going to happen anyway as they dried her with towels and proceeded to toss fair smelling powders over her. They shoved a stack of rough fabric into her arms then began to depart one by one as she slipped on her undergarments, then the thinner kimono of a muted grey over her form followed by the short sleeved forest green vest that tied with a red sash around her waist and off to her left hip. 

Once she was clothed, the guards took hold of her arms again and began pulling her back into the well-lit hallway and up no less than three flights of stairs. The windows disappeared the higher they went and the farther inward; the halls grew narrower and less decorated. Finally, they stopped before a modest door. No intricate carvings. No signs of what was behind it, just a wooden door with steel framing, a simple handle, and a steel lock into which a key was inserted. As soon as the door was swung open, she was shoved in. There was barely any time to regain her footing before she heard the structure slam behind her and she realized that, for the first time in days, she was completely alone. 

She eased slowly to a sitting position on her knees, then to her feet as she soaked in her new living space, her room. Her cell. The first thing she noticed was the tall, ceiling height window seat that was the ultimate source of light of the room. The glass was stained and simply crafted to create an open air arch leading up to a circle that showed what appeared to be a pink star, the bottom a more modest arch with smaller panes was closest to the seat itself. Despite the muted coloring of the glass, she realized that upon closer inspection, the city scape below was easy to see. Both outer walls stood prominent over the roofs of the youkai homes and businesses. 

A four post bed stood to her left as she turned to face the room again, massive in its own right and draped with dark burgundy fabric that obscured the sight of the posts themselves and the bedding within. The dark, rich wood was carved into twists of clouds that lined the outside edges of the foot board. Turning her attention to her right, she noticed a changing screen and what looked like a dressing post for armor. She fancied it odd for the room of a servant, but she also figured it wasn’t often the youkai took prisoners in such a way; it would not be expected to have a great number of rooms prepared for such an occasion. She approached a vanity that was also present next to a dark hued dresser. 

The reflection in the mirror was ignored pointedly as she began sifting through the containers and small jewelry on the vanity top. Opening one of the powder jars she peeked inside and her throat tightened. A finger slipped into the powder and returned to vision with a rich violet tone. The same violet of those marks on his face. 

Her hands immediately dropped the powder without regard to the mess it made upon colliding with the vanity. Hastily she began wiping off the coloring as if it were poison, the drapes of the bed serving her purpose, and afterwards she backed herself up and under the rays of light peering into the window - back against the base of the window seat. ‘They expect me to live here!?’ A panicked realization, hands gripping onto the front of her vest, ‘They expect me to share quarters with that monster!?’ Again, tears threatened her eyes, and again, she forced them back, opting to flee the clear view from the doorway and wedge herself between the bed and the far wall and out of sight. She needed time to compose herself, she needed time to regain her strength. She could not let him see her in such a state no matter the cost. 

‘I must fight!’ her lip quivered, stilled by a harsh bite of her teeth. Her hands dug into the short ends of her now shoulder length hair, gripping and pulling them tightly, “I will fight!”


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

Warmth. It was a foreign feeling from the past few days; she was always drowning in a bitter cold or a burning heat, but never in something so soothing as simple and pure warmth. The depth of the darkness of night had slowly retreated, casting an orange and red hue through her eyelids. She found short reprieve from this as a shadow came over her to help her fall back into her restless slumber. Despite her desire to remain under the spell of the sandman, she felt her joints ache, her back calling out for her to move from her cramped position. Her brows furrowed, her lips tightened. Slowly, her eyes began to open with curtains of black revealing chocolate eyes underneath which peered into the thankful shadow over her. Staring right back glowed a pair of golden, catlike eyes that blinked once curiously. 

A long stare was exchanged between the pair; the priestess still tucked and huddled in the corner of the room where she had settled the day before, though now half slumped and leaning against the four-post bed. The hanyou crouched before her with both hands fisted between his feet and his neck all but craned out and over her knees while he inspected her. He was wearing the same white and red attire as the day before, sans all of the armor. 

Fuzzy white lobes gave a twitch, rotating forward then back as she woke and he leaned further toward her with eyes wide and lips slightly parted, however it was the familiar jingle of the rosary beads about his neck that sent her snapping into action. 

Crack! Across his face went a flat palm, her free hand fisted up and against her chest with her snap forward to slap the man. He lurched to the side, head turning and the once curiously wide eyes were now stricken with shock. Her own face was tight jawed and severe, yet her heavy breathing was enough to betray just how unsettled she had been at the close proximity and unfamiliar room. 

Amber eyes focused on her before his head began to slowly turn, and for a moment they both hesitated again, stillness stretching between them. 

“The  _ fuck  _ is your problem, woman!?” he barked, whipping about on her and now lifting up and onto his knees, hands lifted in a gesture more violent to the air at his sides as his claws tensed and curled inwards toward his palms versus to the woman. Despite the lack of aggression toward her, she immediately quipped her response to his inquiry. 

“Osuwari!” Her knees came up to her chest, gripped by her arm as his face slammed into the floor just in front of her feet. Her back ran up along the wall as she tried to climb to her feet properly before he caught his bearings which he was quickly beginning to do. “What do you think you’re doing looming over me like that? Pervert!” 

Lifting his head he glowered up at the priestess through his silver bangs, fangs borne as he spat in reply, “I wasn’t looming!” She remained unconvinced. Arms wide, his palms pressed against the ground, intending to shove himself to his knees only to find the beads around his neck sending him careening back to kiss the floor coupled with the weight of a foot landing between his shoulders and then another on his rear as she took the opportunity to step over him and escape the corner in which she had trapped herself. 

“You were very much so  _ looming, _ like some sort of animal,” she protested again as her hands busied themselves in smoothing down the material of her clothing, which had crinkled with her sleep. She didn’t remember falling asleep the night before - the last thing on her mind had been watching the streaks of daylight draw along the hardwood floor from the tall window seat as she waited for the inevitability of the bedroom door opening again. He must not have returned until late, as it was quite obviously morning now, and he was freshly dressed and bathed. 

“Woman, I would suggest a tone adjustment,” the hanyou snarled in warning. A hand settled on the side of the bed and he pushed himself to his feet, still none too pleased from his previous treatment. “And that you remove these accursed beads!” he added, his free hand wrapping his fingers around the rosary about his neck to give it a rough yank. 

The priestess merely scoffed. “When I’m cold and dead they will come off, but no sooner.” 

“That can be arranged, wench!” he barked, lurching forward and toward her with his hands coming to brandish sharp claws. He stopped a pace or two from her with hands still up as he realized she had also moved. The split splat of thick liquid hitting the floor between them sent his attention downward and his expression went flat. “Where did you get that?” 

“Get what?” she inquired sweetly, a devious expression on her defiant face. 

His hand lowered to hers to grip it and give it a tug which promptly removed a makeshift wooden shiv from his abdomen. 

“That,” he remarked, as if it was a new form of evidence to something she didn’t already know. 

“I fashioned it,” was her cool reply that earned her a sharp look. 

“Out of wood?” he inquired further, working to begin peeling back her fingers from the grip of the shiv which she allowed. There was no point in keeping it when the cover already been blown. Besides, there were others. 

“No,” she returned, the grin only growing, “Out of cold steel and the souls of my enemies.” This earned her a more audible response of a snort as he snatched the wooden object from her grip finally and began trudging toward the window. She watched as he twisted one of the small knobs along the frame and pushed the lower, larger pane open and dropped the blood coated weapon onto the roof where it rolled off of the side of the castle. 

What she hadn’t expected was his turning toward her immediately and not stopping. She had taken all of two steps backwards, arms that had folded beginning to unfold though not so quick that he hadn’t been able to take her up and off of her feet and carry her behind the screen at the far end of the room. A modest dresser and another mirror had been hidden behind the screen and that was about it aside from a pair of shorter leather boots and a stool which he promptly took up with his free hand and carried back to the bedside and plopped down in the corner opposite the one she’d slept in. Once the stool was down her rump was forced into it. 

“Sit,” he commanded, hand gripping the top of her head and eyes squinted as he peered at her. “Stay,” he followed up and turned to make his way back toward the vanity that was a noticeable shade of violet wherever the powder she’d spilled the night before had landed. 

“I’m not a dog,” she remarked from her corner, legs crossing as her arms did. 

“But you are a pet,” he replied as he, too, sat and began loosening the ties of his soft shirt. “And you’re supposed to do what I say.” 

“I’m a -prisoner-! Only someone as deranged as a hanyou would call me a pet!” Her shoulders were forward, cheeks puffed. The show of annoyance was short lived as she watched the fabric slide from his shoulders and his figure begin to shift to observe the wound she’d inflicted on him. ‘What is he -doing-?’ Her head snapped toward the wall, torso turning as well to avert her gaze as he began to speak again. 

“You’re a moron if you’re anything at all. What do you think a stick is going to do to me even if I  _ am _ a hanyou?” He waited for a long moment, sorting through a drawer to pull out some clean bandages as he expected her to bark out another retort, though when nothing came to pass the silver haired boy turned his attention toward the back now facing him. “What are you doing?” 

“You’re undressing!” she quipped, her body fidgeting visibly, “You could have at least gone behind the screen.” 

The hanyou squinted at her again, though this time mid-motion while wrapping up the already closing hole. “What?” was his honestly confused reply. 

“It must be too much to expect the youkai to have any sense of decency!” Her cheeks were aflame now, grip tight on her arms. Why did he have to keep prying? He was the one making the conversation awkward, not her. 

“What are you, twelve?” 

Kagome’s head whipped around so fast the short cut of hair snapped against her cheeks. “I  _ beg _ your pardon!?” The color of her face and the absolute look of mortification she wore sent him into a challenging, cocky smirk. He turned himself to face her more directly and snickered when her dark eyes crashed straight through the floorboards. 

“You can’t tell me you’ve been marching with armies of men all this time and not once saw one in this state of dress?” He leaned forward, silvery lobes perking up to better catch her quieter sounds of distress and aggravation. His hands rested on his knees, toes tapping on the floor as he continued to poke and prod, “Or are you just  _ that _ undesirable? I can see it. Even for a human, you’re really not much of a beauty. Not even  _ cute _ .” His shoulders bobbed in a shrug, head turning away and with a grin broad enough to show off his sharp white fangs. “But I suppose no men would be interested in such young girls.” 

“I’m nineteen!” she shrilled now, eyes wide and jaw dropped, “ _ Nineteen _ and a Priestess of the Fallen Mother! Of course I’ve not seen anything like that unless tending to the wounded! It’s… It’s uncouth!” Thrusting a hand out, she pointed at his bare chest, ignoring his bored expression and the distractingly cute way in which one of the little dog ears flicked while the other stayed erect. “Now, put your damned clothes on!” She was on her feet, looking flabberghasted. 

A long stretch of silence followed the demand, her hand slowly lowering as she noticed him giving her a skeptical stare. 

“What?” she spat. 

“Well...” he trailed off, lips pursing a bit and ears rotating slowly back against his silver hair. 

“ _ What _ ?” she urged, growing more impatient as he played his games. 

“I just thought you were older than that. You certainly look it.”   
  


***

  
  
It was an interesting thing to wander through the halls of the youkai capital’s castle. It wasn’t an experience she had expected to have before the fall of their King, but nonetheless it didn’t stop her from indulging in every detail she could as they walked. She hadn’t been given much opportunity to truly drink in her surroundings, and despite the quick pace the man in front of her maintained, this was the best chance she had. 

There was also something to be said in how enjoyable it was to watch the various entities of the castle, their stares lingering on the hanyou general as they passed. The occasional whisper or snicker met her ears, so she knew they must be ringing in his. 

“You should enjoy the morning,” she offered innocently. “Slow down a bit and soak in the sun.” Of which there was plenty; Sesshoumaru was apparently fond of massive windows and lots of natural light. 

The man turned his head to glower over his shoulder at her, not humoring her with a reply. She didn’t need one. The handprint across his cheek was still glowing a heated red, and she tried her best to look put out by the ‘threatening’ glint in his furious golden eyes. 

“Honestly. I’ve subjugated you multiple times just this morning and you’re having a tantrum over a slap.” 

The hanyou crossed his arms and huffed as he turned to face forward again, the long ponytail swaying wildly with the movement as he snorted out a haughty, “Shaddap!” 

Despite herself and her dire situation, she found the banter that they fell easily into was a pleasant distraction. Where she was positive it would be grabbing hands and rough treatment, the man seemed almost bored by her presence; it was like being allowed into the tiger’s cage only to have him lead you around with his tail and growl at you whenever you ventured just a bit too close. No sleeping on the floor, by force at least, no groveling - just this odd behavior reminiscent of how she’d expect fellow dorm mates at the shrine to treat her. Rougher in tone, of course, and coarser in language, with no reverence for her position nor care for her feelings, but it was better than silence. Better than the two pieces the king would have had her as. 

“Get the food,” Kagome heard, the masculine voice tearing her out of her inner thoughts in time to keep her from stepping past the door the dog had turned into. 

“Get the food? How do I do that?” the girl asked hastily as she quickened her pace to catch up with him before he disappeared into the crowd occupying the dining room. She wasn’t sure what she had expected when it came to breakfast, perhaps a formal dining hall specifically for himself and the king or some such set up, but the dog had no such luxuries. It was a mess hall type design: long tables set in rows with benches for seating along each side. The settings were pleasant enough, the silverware and plates all neatly settled while women in green kimono moved up and down the rows serving out portions from massive bowls of eggs, bacon, and… slabs of steak? “It looks like they come to you. What exactly do you expect me to get?” 

The dog sat at a small table along the wall, distinctly set apart from the others and set in a way all its own. The place settings appeared to be a bit nicer in front of him, while there were some haphazard and dull plates for herself. He appeared to take a moment to inspect the changes to the already cramped table, an irritated sound radiating from him that prompted her to open her mouth to ask again. He cut her off, “Go to the front of the room and tell them you want our breakfast.”

Frowning, she turned, a hand lifting to settle just under her chin as she looked around the room to search for the definitive front. Each wall was covered in banners depicting various animals and things and their colors, most prominent being the colors she had surmised as the King’s: silver, red and black, and all three were present on a banner bearing a large, wispy canine that framed a rather large chair and table that sat above the rest of the hall. Each wall had at least some form of door and the women weren’t coming from any specific one. He must have noticed her confusion because she was all but shoved aside by an aggressive point out from her left. 

“ _ There _ . Over  _ there _ , stupid girl. Move it!” 

So much for easy, non-threatening banter. 

Now with the direction in which to walk, the priestess began making her way toward the massive tables lined with bowls, plates and silverware at the ‘front’ of the room before which a collection of the women in green were standing. It wasn’t until she drew closer that she noticed every single pair of eyes was focused on her and that, slowly but surely, they were beginning to shuffle back and away from her as though she was plagued with some type of disease. She figured it was humanity. 

“I need the dog’s breakfast.” she offered, a hand unconsciously coming up to run her fingers through the short cropped raven strands that tickled her jawline and whispered along the back of her neck. The women all looked to one another curiously, then over the shoulder of the priestess and across the bustling room to the sulking hanyou against the far wall before coming to land squarely back on the priestess. Kagome floundered for a moment, unsure of what to think of their weird behavior, the idea that perhaps there was some sort of language barrier crossing her mind - but that couldn’t possibly be it; the dog seemed to understand her just fine. 

It was in that drumming silence that she noticed something odd about the women in green and their small movements and shrinking stature. Their skin was as fair as any youkai, they showed no truly discernible differences on first glance, though between their eyes, the shapes of their bodies, their oddly shaped ears and hands in contrast to the vastly animalistic or almost purely human images of the youkai…

“Hanyou?” she blurted out loud to herself, though she managed to keep the sound of her voice just tucked under their breath. Unfortunately, it was not quiet enough to keep the group of women from snapping their attention back from their awkward wanderings to the priestess. 

“Y-Yes.” a larger woman replied, her skin a sandy brown and her figure thick and muscular, “Priestess.” 

“You kno-” Kagome began, cut off by the nodding of all of the women in tandem. 

“Everybody does.” The same voice chimed in, hands hastily beginning to set plates of food on a tray, deftly preparing with trained precision the same meal she always made of steak, eggs, rice, and bread. “Forgive us, Priestess. We did not mean to keep you waiting.” 

Kagome looked over the group who now kept their heads down, a number of them shuffling away with their massive bowls of food to begin dishing out breakfast to the other occupants of the dining hall. Her lips were parted in surprise, eyes widened and brows lifted with a new vision on the situation; every single woman there was a hanyou. There was no mistaking it now, their auras were so distinctly different. She could only venture a guess that she had been so involved in her own world and current company upon entering the room that she had neglected to fully realize her surroundings. ‘Sloppy.’ she chastised herself, ‘And exceptionally dangerous.’ Her fingers curled, nails biting into the flesh of her palms and her brows furrowed as she felt a pricking heat wrap itself around her chest and tighten. 

“Priestess,” the voice tentatively slipped into the consciousness of the woman who turned her attention back to the much larger woman, now tilting her chin up to look to her as a tray was offered - the meal of meat set on a clean white plate while a smaller portioned meal of the same style was on a simpler plate for herself. Umber eyes lifted up from the plates to regard the woman who was now bowing her head.

“O-Oh,” was all the priestess could muster before bending herself with a false start or two at the waist and bowing her head as well. The baffled gaze she met when she lifted her attention only caused her lips to finally curve in an amused, albeit hesitant and uneasy, grin. “What..?” 

“You should..” the woman’s lips thinned, eyes black as pitch looking down a moment then flickering back toward the hanyou who was now bobbing his left leg impatiently, “You sho-should refrain from calling the general a dog, Priestess.” 

To this the priestess scoffed, tilting her chin up defiantly, “He is known as the Wild Dog to my people and for good reason. He is a ruthless creature and I am not about to treat him as anything less simply because he is holding a leash for now.” The words were strong, full of conviction yet when she opened her eyes from her small show of strength she felt as if she’d been slapped by just how shriveled the once massive woman had become. It was then she noticed the sheepish tail of a bovine curling around her thick ankles. “You know that, thou-” she began, her tone now softer, leaning forward to urge the woman to continue to speak. 

Instead, she turned away. “The General grows impatient,” was what she earned over the shoulder of the retreating woman. Her lips curled into a concerned frown, gaze lowering back to the food as she began to turn only to run into something warm and hard. At first she saw white, then red, and then those familiar beads before she was looking right into the man’s face and his expression gave her pause. 

“What are you doing?” he inquired, his voice taking on such a sassy, accusing, sound she could swear she heard her younger brother in it. 

“Doing as you asked,” she responded with a true honesty carried in her tone. The look on his face was oddly foreign. It wasn’t the cocky fighter she’d seen on the field, nor was it the moody general she’d experienced throughout the course of the morning; this was something new. Something bitter. 

“We don’t talk to them,” came stiffly from the man, and he stepped out of her way, a hand lifted to press between her shoulder blades and urge her forward in the right direction. 

“Them? Why?” she asked, unable to keep her curiosity from bubbling up even as she set the tray down on the table and watched the man take his seat in front of his own place. Her head turned to regard the long table where the women clad in greens and browns worked, feeling the corner of her lips tug downward. 

“Don’t ask questions, woman. Eat.” He was already beginning to move his food around on the plate, poking and prodding at it as if he was making sure it wasn’t about to leap out and bite him. 

Kagome eyed his actions, then he himself as she slipped into the chair across from him and crossed her arms on the table between herself and her plate. “I think I should at least be allowed to be  _ curious _ . Who knows how long I’ll be stuck here.” Her head tilted, shoulders leaning forward just a bit as she began to inquire further. “Besides, she wasn’t rude or-” 

“You forget your situation. It’s just day one and you’re already forgetting what you are and what this is.” Golden eyes sliced by black peered through the curtain of silver up to the defiant and stony stare she offered back. “Didn’t think you were that dense, but you’re here, so…”

Her own gaze shifted to give a good look over the room around her. No, not around her, that would imply they were part of it. She observed the room they sat beside. “I know what situation I’m in. I can see it, and I can feel it.” Her gaze flickered back to him, his intense stare still heavily boring into her, daring her to continue. “You’re right there with me whether you like it or not, dog, so our being uncivil to one another isn’t going to help.” 

He leaned over the table further, expression scrunching up and brows furrowing low as he bore his white fanged teeth between which he hissed, “You  _ stabbed _ me this morning with a bit of  _ wood _ !” Her pointer and middle fingers pressed to his brow, urging him to sit back in his chair. His eyes were wide as they stared up at the hand and were still wide with the addition of a slightly slackened jaw when he shifted them to her face as she eased back down into her chair again and re-crossed her arms.

“And I’ll do it again. The little bit of blood that was spilled of yours this morning was not even a drop in the bucket compared to what you’ve spilled of my peop-” 

“Your people have been a thorn in my people’s side for years, woman!” the hanyou snarled venomously, ears pinned back. She was sure she saw his hackles rise from under the fall of his long ponytail. 

“You would do well to stop interrupting me, dog. And my name isn’t ‘woman’, it’s Kagome. Kagome Higurashi.” She was tired of being cut off and stepped on already, and they hadn’t even made it past breakfast yet. The man was rude, and he was going to learn that if she was to be forced to be around him, she wasn’t going to tolerate the ornery dog attitude. 

“You really  _ do _ forget yourself,  _ woman _ .” He growled, taking up his eating utensil and beginning to skillfully shovel food in his mouth, waiting until the most recent mouth-full was down his throat before he continued. “In this castle, your opinions on the war, on yourself, or even on me don’t fuckin’ matter anymore.” She listened to him, feeling the familiar burn in her chest that she had experienced when she realized she hadn’t noticed the hanyou workers before. “All that matters is my brother’s ideals and rules. You’re just some human prisoner that got tossed into the flow of things here.” 

Kagome sat in prolonged silence, hands folded in her lap and gaze focused heavily on the man across from her who continued to eat as if the conversation at hand was less than devastating. Fingers curled up and into her palms, nails biting the soft flesh there through the rough material of her skirt. When she had come to open her mouth again, taking in a breath, one of the ears flicked and he looked back to her with a silencing stare.

“You’re nothing. There is nothing you can do to change that. The faster you come to terms with that fact, the faster you can adjust, and we both can be a little less miserable.” 

There was something about the low tone of his voice that had trapped itself between her ears, ringing against the drums and slinking into her throat to knot up and finally silence her. It was a sullen, raw sound she was unfamiliar with. A resignation that hung over the table like a low, thick fog and made her stomach turn with every moment she was forced to sit there. Some sort of relief should have come when he finally instructed her to stack the dishes and take them to the wash basin. The distance from that little table should have done wonders for her mood, but when she found the larger hands of the same hanyou accepting her tray before it could hit the water, eyes down cast and full lips thinned to a straight and reserved line, the unsettling pit only intensified. 

“Thank you,” she offered quietly, releasing the tray. The eyes didn’t lift, the bow merely lowered and the back was turned and Kagome realized that she was alone again. That for an instant she hadn’t been. The loss was surprisingly debilitating. 

The pair walked in silence to their next destination, with Kagome’s eyes trailing along the heels of each of his steps ahead of her. The soft brown leather of the tall boots thudded against the marbled floor and gave her enough of a pattern to follow in order to keep the darker thoughts pushed back and away within her mind. The measure, however, wasn’t doing much good at keeping the hue of rose from coloring her otherwise fishbelly pale complexion. How foolish she must have looked, taunting as she was, the fallen priestess-turned-prisoner. Hostage. 

The halls of the castle felt like caverns in their own right. Long and winding, with each corner practiced and memorized by the man that lead her along. He didn’t so much as offer a warning whenever he turned. There was no tell in his gait, but that was to be expected; he was a warrior, after all. She knew first hand just how graceful he could be in battle, so it was only natural it would carry on to his time outside of the battlefield, and yet this gave her no reason to not find herself growing agitated with the more frequent need to jog a few steps to catch up with him and his sharp corners. 

Eyes slowly lifted from his feet to travel the height of his legs and up to the back that bobbed in front of her. His attire was different and yet the same as the day before, covered in the long coat whose hem hovered just behind his knees with no real distinguishing marks marring the white material outside of two stark crimson red stripes that reached in an arc over his arms just under the slit between the sleeve and the shoulder of the coat. From the insides of his arms, just under those slits, hung two cords that were decorated with simple long beads, a red tassel hanging from the elbows and swaying with his steps. She could tell there was more hidden under the swaying tail of his hair, now tied tightly at the nape of his neck versus high on the back of his head, that hung from the hard leather shoulder ‘armor ‘ a moon design under two blades unified by a large round bead. A thick red tassel hung under the violet moon and golden blades along with two others that lead up to the extended shoulders of thick leather that covered his shoulders. It was odd to imagine that such an imposing man would jingle as he did when he walked, and it was no surprise that he did now that she took proper inventory of just how decorated his attire was. The simplest parts of him were the leather boots and the rough looking sword that bobbed at his hip with each step. 

A quick glance was cast down to herself and her own simple clothing. Her tunic was green, the same shade of the hanyou women in the hall and tied with a red sash. Her skirt, which she had thought was white initially, was now so obviously a dull silver-grey color. Though the material itched a bit with how rough it was crafted, it wasn’t a set of rags, and was still considerably nicer than being left in her bloodstained and tattered priestess attire from the day before. Furrowing her brows, her arms lifted instinctively to cross over her chest and grip her sleeves with the memory of just how filthy and downtrodden she felt and looked and just how disheartening it had been to see her clothing taken away or torn with armor in pieces at her feet. The memories began flooding back, crashing against her heart like a rough ocean wave of anxiety and loss: the feelings she had specifically been trying to escape. Luckily for the priestess, she found her face filled with the soft, thick hair of her companion and was yanked abruptly from sorrow to surprise. 

Launching herself backwards a few steps, she looked wide-eyed up to the hanyou general who gave her a passive, over the shoulder scowl. The cold turn of expression didn’t keep her from blurting out an unceremonious and sincere, “S-Sorry! Sorry! I wasn’t paying attention!” Palms pressed together before her chest, her figure bending a little at the waist and an uneasy grin coming to play across her lips. Habits died hard when you were so often accused of daydreaming and dragged from lessons after doing the same thing to one of the Keepers at the shrine. 

Much to her surprise, his brow merely raised, thick and black in contrast to the silver of his hair. “Right,” he grumbled, turning to his right and reaching up to take hold of a sizeable ring hanging from the door and pulling the heavy, surprisingly silent, structure open. 

What was on the other side of the door was unexpected. She had thought perhaps they were going to go on to a meeting, or training, or something of the like, but instead it looked like a small chapel. Rows of pews lined the back of the room along a short walk that lead to five statues, all sporting their own brazier fires and unique armies of candles. 

When the man stepped further into the room, she followed slowly after, pausing only when he did to instruct her to step between the two last pews of the row on the right hand side. She did so obediently and stood with her hands folded on the polished wood before her, and though she kept her face downcast, she watched her companion out of the corner of her eyes. 

Despite being in the holy place, he didn’t appear to pray. He stood silent and stiff as stone, staring up to the figures at the front of the room. They looked heavenly in their own right under the glow of their fiery armies in an otherwise pitch dark room. 

Kagome licked her lips, taking a breath through her nose and leaning a little toward the man to inquire in a quiet whisper, regardless of the fact they appeared to be completely alone. “Where are we?” Bright eyes turned to her, lips tightening as they so often did, the sound of drumming claws on wood reaching her ears. 

“Where do you think?” he inquired in return after a contemplative pause. When she didn’t respond right away he looked forward again and let his posture ease in the short lived silence. 

“A mini-temple of some sort, a chapel. But I don’t recognize those statues.” 

His nose crinkled, brows furrowing, yet his tone didn’t convey a great deal of impatience. She figured that it was because of the required respectful silence that the room demanded. “You wouldn’t, now, would you? K’eh, you’d think you people would learn more about your enemies.” His head turned toward her as she turned hers and they stared at one another, a challenge for her to persist given the mocking tone of his voice, and yet she stood down. Facing forward, she resigned herself to working her jaw and waiting for him to finish whatever it was he was doing; this was no place to begin arguing politics, even if he was the one bringing it up. 

Luckily, her wait was not a long one, his turn as prompt as his initial stop as he exited the row and went back into the now-blinding light of day. Again, she followed in his shadow, feeling more like a child being pulled along on errands than a prisoner or captive at this point. Were they to pick up milk and eggs at the market and drop off some clothing for mending before returning to the room for the evening? 

Unfortunately for the woman, it was very little short of just that. Room after room they slipped into, picking up such frivolities as cleaned laundry or repaired armor before attending small meetings with lesser soldiers and commanders over tea and a lunch of dry meat and rice hidden in some small room within the tower and finally away from those daunting open windows. All the while, she pelted the man with questions. Anything she found curious, either culturally or structurally, she asked about, and always she received a short, non-committal answer or an irritable grunt. 

Finally, as the sun began to move down the sky once again on the far side of noon, she found herself in a somewhat familiar hall. Perhaps they were finally returning to the room? But then what? Her voice finally fell quiet, for the first time since the chapel had rekindled it after breakfast, and she felt herself grow weary once more. The day had been a hilly ride with her resolve growing frayed with every passing hour and every mood. She needed to do what she could to keep her spirits up and hope alive and yet there was little budging her keeper. Not right now, anyway, but she had perceived time. Time to plan and time to prepare for her escape. This wretch, for all of his deceptively civil ways, would not be spared from the justice he had thus far escaped. Her dull canines bit into the flesh of her bottom lip and threatened to draw warm blood while fingers once again threatened her palms, but the growing shadow over her vision was enough warning for her to stop before she ran headlong into the hanyou’s shoulder much like she had his back. 

Tilting her chin upwards, she peered at him with lips pursing shut and brows lowering over dark eyes expectantly, yet he merely stared down at her from over his shoulder. He was only partially turned toward her, the sidelock of the cheek visible to her and obstructing the majority of the purple streaks that stained his otherwise tanned features. His own thick brows began to lower over the golden eyes and his lips only drew smaller and tighter under that angled nose but it was the slow, creeping turn of the furry, doglike ears from the mass of thick silvery hair that finally gave her a voice. 

“What?” she asked dryly, voice smaller in contrast to the bold energy she had exuded earlier in the morning. Those ears flipped forward again at her vocalization and crinkles formed on the bridge of his nose as if he’d just smelled something offensive, yet his lips kept his features from being unkind, more like a child unable to voice a complaint. His eyes were averted to boot. 

This was their wild, violent, fearless dog. This is what she was so damned afraid of. 

“ _ What? _ ” she urged, resisting the tug that threatened at the corners of her lips from his antics. He turned with such a prompt motion that she was nearly whipped with the end of his ponytail. She stood there, stunned for a moment at the silent treatment offered by the long, flowing silk white coat and irritably stiff shoulders that were retreating from her. ‘Honestly!’ she thought, moving forward and jogging to catch up with him, only slowing a bit sheepishly into a speed walk when she noticed how many of the hanyou workers and fancily garbed youkai were pausing to stare at her as she passed them. 

“Hey.  _ Hey _ !” she hissed, trying to keep her voice down while they rounded the next corner back into one of the main halls, obvious enough by another slew of massive windows and blinding natural light. An ear turned toward her, signifying he heard her, but when no response was offered she moved to pass him by. A mistake, she quickly learned, as he stopped abruptly to shoot an arm out to keep her from moving past his shoulder. 

“Don’t,” he said gruffly, staring down her. She was staring at the arm before her, then up to the man to whom it belonged. He didn’t look angry, or even annoyed; the command seemed to simply be a warning before she crossed the threshold to yet another unknown transgression.

“Don’t… what?” she asked, self consciously looking around the hall and finding herself relieved that there were no others around. The stares were becoming unnerving. 

“When walking with others here you walk in order. Highest ranks to lowest ranks. You have to stand behind me,” was his rehearsed, matter-of-fact reply. Something she could hear herself telling visitors to the shrine who were stepping away from the designated pathways. Something about it caused her to step back a bit from the arm once it was lowered.

“Because I’m a prisoner,” she stated, more than asked, nodding slowly. It made sense. 

“Because you’re human,” he corrected, turning to begin moving further down the hallway with the woman falling in tow right behind him. They walked for a few minutes in silence, footfalls echoing in the empty hall. 

“I thought you said it was based on rank.” 

“It is,” he replied promptly. 

“Then how does being human outweigh being a prisoner?” She could venture a guess, but the concept was foreign. It was new, this idea of blood changing the social ranking within a community but she also didn’t live in a kingdom where she lived alongside hanyou or youkai. At one point, she had heard, the human cities had youkai and hanyou residents but that had been hundreds of years ago. Not since the Mother had fallen to the fangs of the Wretched had a youkai been permitted in human lands, and - from what she’d been taught - the hanyou born from the period had long since died or defected to live alongside their youkai-blooded family.

“If you don’t get it, it’s not worth explaining. Stop asking questions; just follow the rules.” The tone of voice sounded exasperated, response carried on a sigh. 

Kagome thought for a few moments, mulling over her words carefully as they walked. “Aren’t you curious?” she inquired finally, leaning at the waist to try to peer around him and catch a glimpse of the profile of the man who was so focused on traversing the maze that was the castle. 

A long moment's hesitation lingered through the next turn; the pair was still traveling an exterior corridor of the tower before finally he relented a tight, “About?” 

“My culture? Humans? Your enemy?” She couldn’t help it, and it was getting the best of her. She needed the sound of her own voice, and perhaps his just to remind her that the bleakness that he shot through her light was not all that he thought it was. That somehow this situation could be liveable. Survivable. 

“No,” he scoffed, the ears rotating back and causing her nose to crinkle in amusement. “Why would I care about any of that?” The right corners of her lips quirked up at his terse response and she couldn’t help a bubble of amusement that rose up at his difficult nature. Was this not the one who chastised her for not understanding the enemy that very same day?

“Because you now have full access. I  _ am _ a high priestess, you know. I could teach you about our religion and customs.” Her right hand took hold of her left wrist behind her back, their pace now a more comfortable stride. He seemed to not hesitate once she offered that, turning around and stopping with a hand held out, palm up. 

“Tell me where the Shikon no Tama is, then.” His eyes were wide, brows low and overall he showed just as much belief as she knew he had that she’d actually tell him. 

She leaned forward, chin tilted upwards to peer at him and with eyes closed and voice lighthearted she responded with a stern, yet polite, “No.” 

“Then I still don’t care.” With that he turned, missing the roll of her eyes. 

“Where are we going?” she inquired as they began to walk again, realizing now that they’d been walking for what felt like an eternity through the winding halls. 

“Council,” he replied. 

“Do you have that every day?” He sighed and she finally gave in and grinned to his candor, or lack thereof. “We should play a game.” His head turned at that, glancing over his shoulder as they walked, the voice hesitant and quiet. 

“Game?” was his inquiry to her suggestion, the girl nodding in response sending the short black hair to bob and sway against her jaw. This was better than the silence, at least, despite his testy attitude. 

“You’ve heard of games before, right? You youkai certainly have  _ games _ ?” she teased, finding the hole she poked in the bleakness with this turn of conversation actually enjoyable. He scoffed, arms lifting slip into his sleeves as they crossed in front of his chest. 

“Games are for peace time. Training is for war time,” he replied. She could tell he was turning his nose upwards a bit, chin lifting in pride or some such nonsense to the response he offered her. So militaristic. So focused. Such bullshit. 

“It’s not a bad game and it doesn’t take a lot of effort,” the woman enthused, keeping her voice a bit lower as the hall began to grow more occupied. For some reason it was always so evident when they were not alone. Under strict watch, the weight of eyes all over her as they passed. It was hard to miss and she would be glad to be rid of them. “It’s a Question Exchange.” 

“Then you’ve been playing it all day.” 

“No, I’ve just been asking questions. This game it has to be an exchange - you can only ask a question so long as the other person has been answered. You can refuse any questions you want if your question has yet to be responded to and if you refuse to answer the question you’re asked you lose a turn and...” she paused, looking to the ceiling and tapping her chin with the tip of her pointer finger in thought, “Hmm.. What would be a good punishment be..” She could tell he was curious, now, the rigid structure of his back shattered with the left ear now turned full attention back to her and listening in. Fisting her hand she dropped it into her opposite palm, “I have it! You can make a demand of the other! Anything within reason.” 

The hanyou scoffed, looking over his shoulder again and speaking his dissent, “That’s stupid! How are you to know the other will follow through with the demand?” His footfalls slowed, giving him the allowance to pay her the attention he was giving her with the benefit of not running into an unexpected wall. 

“It’s called trust. You need to trust them that they’ll do their challenge or the game ends and you refuse any more questions.” She nodded. He squinted. 

“And how are you to be sure the truth is being told? Is there any penalty for lying?” By now he was all but walking backwards, arms still crossed as he stepped along. Her own arms remained folded behind her back, her grin growing more mischievous. 

“You would have to trust me, no more than I’d have to trust you’re telling me truths yourself.” This gave the hanyou pause, finally stilling his steps as he regarded her. He was skeptical, as was clear from his sweeping gaze that sized her up, but she could tell he was contemplating what she was offering him. 

“Agreement, then,” he stated flatly, skating the tip of his tongue over his lips though his eyes widened in confusion as she offered out her hand with a nod. Looking to the hand, then up to him she frowned.

“What?” 

“We don’t shake like that. That’s how humans shake. It’ll look...” He glanced around to the few people in the hall, at least one stopped and was openly staring at the exchange. She looked toward the man who was staring at them and was pleased to see that once the hanyou cleared his throat, he decided it was time to move on. “Look, ah... Fist your hand.” He fisted his own and brought it to his chest over his heart. “And do this.” She followed the instructions slowly, looking down to her hand, then back up to him for further instruction. “Alright, now, since you’re lower rank you go above and I go below.” One of her brows lowered yet she did as she was told, extending her fist out in time with his, landing it gently on his chest as she felt his land on her own. “That’s how we do that here.” his hand retreated and he took a step back, turning to continue down the hall. 

She blinked, then gave chase. Her cheeks felt warm, yet it was hardly from the actual touch but more the intimacy of a youkai handshake; it was much closer and far more dangerous. “Wait, why do you do it like that? Don’t you worry about betrayal?” 

“Is that a question? You only get one at a time.” His tone was lighter this time, his steps easy as he approached the braziers outside of the large, decorated and guarded doors of the hall. 

“Fine, the first one is,” she conceded, hoping to get her answer before they entered the intimidating room.

“Our agreement came first. Not all of us had hands back before youkai began to adapt human forms for convenience so the idea of shaking hands wouldn’t have been thought up.” He paused a little bit, hands smoothing over his coat and brushing back his bangs from his face before he approached the guards; a gesture she hadn’t honestly expected from the otherwise flippant man. “So, as a sign of trust, we developed that. It’s considered the ultimate transgression to harm someone during it.” 

“Why do lower ranks go first?” she asked for clarification, only to earn a haughty, fang filled smirk in return.

“You already asked your question.” With that he stepped forward, the puffy cheeked priestess following him and yet they both found themselves stopped by crossed polearms in front of the doorway. His hand was halfway to the handle before the blades nearly subtracted it from his arm. Kagome found herself releasing a hint of a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding by the time the general spoke again. “What is your reasoning this time?” he inquired. 

“The King wishes us to inform you that you are not permitted within the council chambers until you have been given your new, proper, attire,” the left hand guard said, violet eyes turning to the silver haired man who stared directly back at him with no sign of stepping down. 

“I’m wearing proper attire,” he scoffed, opening his arms to show the two men, sword and all, the layers of silk and thick leathers under the jacket that covered him with the various beads singing in chorus with the rosary around his neck. “Let me in.” 

The two guards looked toward one another shortly before drawing their gaze back to the general and yet their polearms stayed crossed. “The King wishes us to inform you that you are not permitted within the council chambers until you have been given your new, proper, attire, hanyou.” The addition to the previous statement sent his shoulders rigid, and she was almost positive she heard a rumbling growl radiating from him. 

“Then get -in- there and tell him that I’m here!” he bellowed, stomping a step forward with his fists lifted and ready to be thrown. One of the soldiers by the door lost his composure and cracked a grin to the general’s antics, the other glancing his ally’s way only to do the same. This only proved to enrage the dog-eared man further, barking like the dog she knew him as with such ferocity she jumped despite herself. “The hell are you assholes laughing at!” 

Granted, the entire situation seemed odd. At first she had suspected that perhaps he was missing his armor but she realized how foolish that sounded in her own mind. He lived here, day in and day out, he knew what was acceptable and what was not. Even if, and she assumed he did, the ‘Lord King’ had people watching them or had been alerted to their current attire it made no sense how upset and offended he seemed to be acting. No, this was unusual. This wasn’t his norm. The only difference in his routine was…

“Is it because of me?” she finally injected, stepping forward and finding herself suddenly the subject of all three of their attention. The smiles fell from the faces of the two youkai guardsmen and the right guard shook his head. The general looked back toward the pair. He had opened his mouth to speak but the sound of the heavy door opening drew his breath from him. A smaller woman stepped out of the doorway, standing just on the other side of the crossed blades. 

Raven hair tied up in a thick bun at the back of her head let silky tresses fall to frame her angled face delicately before pointed ears. Her attire was elegant, a long kimono with softly colored sleeves covered in the images of cranes and feathers. Her crimson lips wore a smile that sent a chill down Kagome’s spine. It was mocking, the same condescending appearance as her eyes, and she regarded the pair in the hallway causing such a ruckus. “What…” came a low, silky smooth voice, “is going on out here, gentlemen?” she inquired, her gaze shifting from the pair in the hallway to the guard to her right. 

“The general wishes to enter the council chambers, my Lady,” the guard supplied and was rewarded with an approving, slow nod. It was, however, the hanyou who spoke next and out of turn with a violent snarl. 

“Stop fucking with me, Kagura,” his voice was a low rumble to start before returning to its previous loud snap and bark, “I have every right to be in there! What’s being said?” His fists shook, jaw rocking back and forth as teeth ground against one another and Kagome couldn’t help herself but feel puzzled. Did he assume they were talking about him? Otherwise council meetings, at least with the humans, were long, drawn out affairs about land and policy and an update on wartime affairs. More often than not she was excited to be told she was excused and yet here he was looking ready to fight to get in and demanding the subject of discussion. 

“The King has made it clear why he does not want you here, and you are proving his reasoning as we speak.” As if from thin air, a fan appeared in her hand, slipped seamlessly from her sleeve and allowed to fall open, held up to cover the lower portion of her face. “You are a dog who requires a muzzle, _ InuYasha _ . Something of which you currently lack.” 

“A muzzle?” Kagome inquired, stepping forward again, frowning, “Is a council not for sharing opinions? There’s no point in silencing him for a council; he’s a high ranking official, is he not?” She was confused, sincerely, and growing uncomfortable with the rising insinuations of the situation. This dog had been ornery, rough, and rude throughout the day but that doesn’t change what he is, and what purpose he should have within the power structure of these meetings. A muzzle for the dog was appealing but in this case it seemed.... wrong!

InuYasha’s posture had eased a bit, eyes wide as he stared at the priestess now in thinly veiled surprise, lips slightly ajar and ears folded, though it was Kagura who initially spoke, pulling his attention away from Kagome and forward again with that defiant glower returning. “One should not speak on matters they do not understand, priestess.” The corners of the youkai woman’s eyes lifted, her cheeks rising to signify she was smiling behind that fan. “Can’t even keep a handle on the human prisoner, hm?” Her voice was like a low purr, eyes half lidded as she looked over the priestess in question, whose brows only furrowed. 

“Now hold on a minu-” Kagome began, though it was the shift in the hanyou that had her silence herself, looking up to his back. He lifted from his offensive position, arms at his sides and his expression placid as he stared directly at the youkai woman who had taken to tucking a tuft of hair behind one of her ears, revealing the beaded earring dangling from the lobe. Unceremoniously he turned, heading in the direction from whence he came, and Kagome couldn’t help but gape to the abrupt decision to retreat. “W-wait I..” she turned toward him, taking a few steps to catch up, but pausing just long enough to look over her shoulder toward the doorway which was now unblocked, the woman turning to slip back into the room behind the protection of the large doors. She tightened her jaw, taking in a deep breath before jogging to catch up with the general. 

“Hold on, what was that about?” she asked once she was close enough to speak to him without having to yell, ignoring the ever present gazes all together now. “What do they mean muzzle? Was this about yester-” 

“Just forget about it,” he growled, pace picking up a fraction, but she had no trouble keeping in time with him. She wanted her answers.

“There was something going on; I want to know what happened. Why can’t you tell me?” Her voice was insistent, urging the man to shed some light on the confusing situation she had just observed, and yet he held fast in his silence. So focused on his task of charging off to their next destination, he hadn’t realized she had run up ahead of him to stand in front of him and block his path with her arms extended to either side of her. The look he adopted was one of surprise that melted fluidly into aggravation. 

He took a step or two further, casting a far more intimidating shadow over her when she could face him head on, and leaned at the waist to lower his head just a bit closer to hers. His lips drew back against sharp, white fangs as he ground out a low, dangerous, “ _ Move _ .” Her chin tilted upwards defiantly, her shoulders only squaring and nostrils flaring as she replied in turn. 

“No.” His brows lowered, a snarl whispering from his throat, yet she continued. “I want to know what that was about. It made no sense and you are the only one here who can explain it to me.” She inhaled deeply, puffing up her chest and strengthening her resolve. He was not amused. 

“There is nothing for you to know.” His weight shifted, gaze moving as he made way to step around her, only to find them nearly colliding into one another as she thrust herself into his path again. Hands finally fisted, thrust down in a tantrum at his sides as he bellowed, “Why are you being such a pain in my  _ ass, _ woman! Why won’t you just do as you’re _ told _ ?” He was breathing heavily, seething even, and yet a smile crept upon her lips. 

“Is that your question?” she inquired politely. 

The man frowned a moment, unsure of how to respond. The tension in his arms released somewhat and his shoulders lowered. “Yes,” he grunted with finality. 

“Nobody said prisoners had to be obedient, General  _ InuYasha _ ,” she stated matter of factly, sending his brows shooting straight into the silvery bangs. “And I don’t plan on making this easy; you are my enemy, and one day we will fight again, but while we’re here I will not give up. I refuse to let this place defeat me and I  _ will escape.”  _ Her arms lowered back to her sides, both of their postures now neutral versus their previous, more aggressive stances. There was silence, then, long and heavy as they took the moment to size each other up - ignoring the small circle of youkai and hanyou alike who had paused to witness the exchange with a mixed array of expressions ranging from shock to amused smiles, though not a soul would dare to speak a word after such a declaration. “I refuse to be miserable.” 

Golden eyes flickered to his right, then his left, head turning just enough to signal that whatever show the others had been watching was over, and thus, the crowd began to disperse. “It’s politics,” he finally mumbled, moving to step past her again and, this time, succeeding without a fight. “There are certain things that can’t be helped and this was just one of them; I did it to myself.” 

She kept silent as she chewed on his words, letting him lead her through the halls again, up flights of stairs in the heart of the nearly empty tower. This was the one place she was already beginning to find familiar, the one place she was positive nobody would follow or gawk. Politics felt like they were left behind walls of winding stairs and heavy doorways the higher they went. Once the doorway was opened, she slipped in behind him and took a moment to circle the room, re-memorizing every detail of her surroundings and taking in the little freedom of not having to be walking at his heel for once while he removed his coat and draped it over the shoulders of the stand beside his armor. 

“You’re going to be expected to be able to run those errands on your own, you know,” he informed her as he sat down at the vanity chair, beginning to unlace the leather boots at the knee. She merely nodded, coming to stand before window seat and peering out through the colored glass panes above the tall clear windows. 

“I imagined as much,” she mused, hand reaching out to smooth her fingers over the soft red fabric of the seat to find the hand snatched in one of his and tugged away - his body coming between herself and the cushion to sit in the seat and glower at her. 

“This is mine. You don’t touch this,” he warned, shifting his weight and stretching his legs out enough that the balls of his feet were against the wall opposite him, knees slightly bent with the lack of room to fully extend. “If you do I’ll tell - I can smell you from across the room, don’t think I couldn’t catch your scent on this fabric.” Her hands lifted, palms out showing her retreat as she took a few steps back from his beloved window. 

“Right, right. But, uhm...” her attention traveled the room, cast in the glow of the setting sun, “Where do I, uh...” 

“Wherever you want; I don’t care,” was the quick response she earned, his attention already outside of the window and away from her. She hesitated a moment, her own arms crossing loosely, uncertainly, over her midsection. 

“Where do you sleep?” 

“Here.” There was no hesitation; it was a matter of fact. The window seat had no extra decoration, no pillows or blankets or universal slumber comforts; it was just a window seat with an overstuffed and well-used cushion and two walls. He fit well enough in it, but it hardly looked comfortable. “You can take the bed for all I care, just put it back together in the morning.” 

“What about dinner?” His head turned to her with this question, brows furrowing. 

“Is this your question?” he asked and she paused, pursing her lips as her own game was turned against her, and she shook her head. InuYasha took a deep breath and turned back toward the window, relenting a low, “We don’t need to eat as often. If you want food you can go to the dining hall but from now on you need to bring something from earlier meals; it’s not exactly in your best interest to go wandering around the grounds without me there. But I’m sure you knew that.” 

Kagome’s weight shifted from foot to foot momentarily, memories of the crowded dining hall coming to mind and the pure concentration of youkai giving her stomach a rough turn. The idea that the King might also be there, with those piercing and cold eyes, did little to settle her mood. No, no she would not be going there on her own any time soon, not without her current begrudging guardian. Though just as her mind moved to the youkai who occupied that massive room she also remembered those clad in mossy greens, the soft eyes that so often were downturned. Swallowing thickly, umber eyes lifted to the hanyou now silhouetted against the bright fire of the blazing sunset streaked sky, his shadow cast along the floor and ending at her feet. 

He was a general, a position anyone would see of high respect. One of the most notorious warriors that the humans have ever faced, the source of nightmares of hardened soldiers and wailing babes alike. This anxious, gruff man was everything she might have expected as far as a casual personality among his peers and yet, despite that, he didn’t seem to have any of his own to speak of. 

He was their general, he was their Wild Dog... but he was also...

“I have my question,” she murmured. The left ear atop his head slowly turned to show that she had his attention; it was enough for her to continue. “Why are we not to speak to the people in the dining hall?” 

His ear slowly eased forward again while his head tilted up just a little to look further into the sky. Shoulders lifted and fell with a heavy sigh and his response was direct. Though he was frank, and gruff as usual while he stated his answer, as if it just always had been - and should be expected, she couldn’t help but feel herself grow uneasy with just how empty it also sounded. Like a single person saying a command within a long empty hall, only to hear their own voice echoing back to them. “They are hanyou.” 


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

“InuYasha!” 

The long, winding halls were empty - the wall to the right nothing but open windows that blazed past with every stride, the left a cold wall with the occasional sliding doorway. There was little light to guide his path, but he didn’t need it; he could pick up her scent. Nostrils flared again and lips drew back against pearly fangs as he released a determined growl. The thick thumps his boots made against the hardwood floor pounded in his ears which sat forward, listening for what he knew was to come. What  _ always _ came. This time, he would be ready for it.

“InuYasha, where are you?” 

Sliding so severely he nearly toppled to the ground, he turned at the end of the hallway and began making his way toward the center of the building. A hand came quickly to the chill-to-the-touch hilt at his hip to grip the heirloom sword. The wrapped hilt was always so cold and lifeless despite its close proximity to his own body heat and the fabric wrapping, aggressive in its repellent texture through the fabric that covered his palms. ‘Tessaiga.’ he thought bitterly, ‘If there is anything you could do for me, it should be this!’’ 

The further he ran from the outer hall, the darker the hall he was in became. A thick haze began to cloud his vision, making the floor almost indiscernible from the wall, yet he pressed forward. His nostrils flared, soaking in the scent that only grew stronger with every passing moment: a mixture of dust, incense, and wood polish. 

“Quickly! Quickly, we need to hurry!” 

Armor clattered, heels digging in as he slid to a stop. He lifted the hand not poised on the sword to touch the sliding door before him, upon which was painted a winding, slender feline. Drawing the rusted sword he slammed the door open and charged inwards through blinding red light. Before he could blink, the perspective changed, and he found himself far closer to the ground. Round amber eyes looked down to where the cold hilt of his sword once rested to find a length of gold. It appeared to be the broken piece of a candle holder wrapped in small, pudgy fingers. All around him were flames, licking at the walls, tearing through the drapes and surrounding the boy who stood at the threshold. 

“InuYasha!” 

He gasped, a tightness in his chest sending his small bare feet further into the inferno. The layers of armor were replaced with light layers of thin fabric embroidered with simple patterns of clouds and dogs. Silver hair fell freely over his neck though the length was cropped at the shoulders now, growing heavy with soot and mild perspiration. “I’m coming!” he cried out in his juvenile voice, “Where are y-?” His voice was silenced with an uproar of licking fire in his path, a shadow coming into sight. 

From behind the wall of flames a figure emerged. Huge in scale and yet somehow managing to push the ceiling of the modest room higher still. Its massive, bulging crimson eyes peered down at the boy, wide and unforgiving as its heavy lips pulled up and back to reveal pitch gums and bloodstained fangs. The huge canine shook out its shoulders, tossing aside embers and bits of burning debris. 

He was frozen, staring up and into those eyes as he was drowned in the scent of metallic blood, a sickeningly familiar and morbidly twisted scent. His jaw was open, hands shaking and knees weak, forced to stand in the shadow of the very god to cast judgement over him. There was nothing. He was powerless. The creature released a heavy huff of breath, sending licking tendrils of flames to shoot from between its teeth and intensify the heat of the room it shared with the hanyou child.

Tears welled yet sizzled on his cheeks, evaporating into the superheated air while the massive set of teeth turned to him. 

“Justice...” the canine seethed, the slithering tongue running along those furred lips, doing nothing to rid the white coat of the pink hue of blood.

The boy breathed, dropping his gaze to the piles of fabric before him and settling on the shrouded face covered in long, curling tresses of fine, raven, hair now matted with blood - scorched by fire. 

“You cannot cease... my justice...” the rumbling, booming voice blasted. The hanyou boy’s gaze snapped up just in time to look into the throat of the beast, to feel the teeth rip into his chest. 

  
***

Doubling over, the man gasped out a sharp breath, a hand coming to his stomach. He felt the warmth of another hand there already, then the stickiness of fabric - all too familiar from the preceding weeks. Bright slitted eyes dropped immediately to the hands grasping a makeshift wooden shank that was currently sheathing itself in his lower left side. Blood was pouring into his shirt. Upon further - though unnecessary - inspection, he found himself staring straight into the fiery brown eyes of his assailant. 

The sword that had been resting on his shoulder was taken up and lifted to rap over the top of her head in annoyance. Obviously, he had not stricken hard enough, as she barely flinched away. 

“Good morning, InuYasha,” the woman greeted while he lifted one of his legs to push a bare foot into her side and shove her away from him before ripping the shank out of its fleshy resting place. Leaning toward the window to his right, he pushed open one of the panels and let it fall far out of harm’s reach down the the slanted roof so that it might join the wide variety of other shanks he’d confiscated from the determined priestess.

Kagome suffered a small spill, though she scrambled to her feet readily enough. As always, she looked poised for a fight, some sort of violent repercussion in the early morning and, as usual, she was left disappointed by his lack of interest in a scuffle. He took his time adjusting his weight in the window seat upon which he slept each night, hoisting himself to his feet and shoving Tessaiga into his sash where it would be secure. Where in the first few days of their arrangement these plans seemed to be more heartfelt, now it almost seemed like a game, resulting in him gaining good purchase over her upper arms to lift her from her feet. She had squirmed and kicked the first few times, but by now in this ceremony, she was simply along for the ride as he walked her to the far corner of the room beside the bed. 

“Sit,” he commanded, forcing her to sit on the same stool he had placed that first morning. Her knees to came nearly to her chest once her feet were settled flat on the floor, and her glowering eyes canted upwards to his retreating back. 

“You don’t have to tell me each time, you know,” she reminded him while she began to comb her fingers through her hair to brush the short strands as he went about the ritual of putting on his face for the day.

“And you don’t have to keep stabbing me, but it sure as hell doesn’t stop you, does it?” Thick black brows lowered while he glowered at her out of the corners of his eyes, trained hands applying inky eyeliner in pitch black wings over his lashline. “Seriously, it was amusing the first four or five times, but now it’s fuckin’ annoying.”

She didn’t seem phased, and he was less than enthusiastic about just how nonchalant she was being about the shank situation. Where was she even getting them all? He couldn’t count on his fingers anymore just how many different types of sharp objects she’d stabbed him with at this point. He couldn’t help but wonder just what the motive was behind it was, seeing as - other than for the occasional sneak attack - she was borderline pleasant. 

“Is that your question?” he heard her voice chime from the corner of the room, bringing him to a pause in his work. Ears turned before his gaze did to find her with her elbows on her knees and her jaw propped in her palms. 

“You know damned well it was rhetorical,” he spat, his ears flopping back and flat against his hair as he shifted his weight. Grumbling, he returned to touching up the violet streaks that cut across his cheeks and did his best to ignore the proud ‘hmph’ he heard coming from the other side of the room. 

He had quickly learned this was to be the game that was played. Every moment of every day there was some risk of half-baked assassination or escape attempts, and though they certainly added an extra vein of interest to his typically dull routine when forced to roost in the castle, it was beginning wear thin on his patience. It wasn’t hard to guess where she came across pieces of glass or silver from their meals but he was beginning to grow concerned as to just how she was coming up with so many of these wooden shanks. 

Perhaps what had been more curious about the woman was that she truly was cordial. Curious, hardly quiet, but on the verge of warm when she was not spouting some sort of nonsense about her people. What was he to expect, though? He knew he certainly would be less than cooperative if the roles were reversed, but he never figured he’d be captured for long if he was. They would rue that day, whoever they were, that they had captured him. 

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, my body is built differently,” he grumbled finally, sweeping his hair back over his shoulders to tie it in its low ponytail with the quick work of his fingers. He could hear her every move, the ease of her weight and the huff of her breath as she mouthed his next statement, “Even as a hanyou you’re not doing any damage to me.” The lip movements didn’t go un-noticed, his hands settling their palms on his knees as he peered through lazy, half lidded eyes at her antics.

A spirited girl, she was determined to make the situation difficult, and if that was how things were going to be, he had no qualms about keeping up the pace.

Heaving out a breath, he removed the leather band from about his wrist to tie the moon pendant around his neck again. Reaching under the vanity, he fetched his boots to slip those on as well before tugging on the long, light sleeves of his decorated coat. As he did this, Kagome stood from the stool, smoothing down her fresh clothes she had changed into before he had woken up himself and made her way toward the door to unlock it and tug it open in order for the both of them to silently slip out.

***  
  


If the hanyou was anything, he was oddly adaptable. She had known that there was a daily insistence that ‘flexibility in the field is absolutely key,’ but his integration of her into his routine took all but a few days before she had it down pat. She had developed enough recognition of the castle wings that she knew approximately where they were going and what to expect which each turn that they made, which brought a growing sense of ease as they traveled. The stares they received, where once they were a focus of her attention, felt nothing more than soft breezes of attention at this point. Youkai and hanyou stared. It was what they did. 

Today, she knew, was a Thursday, which meant that they would be meeting with the quartermaster immediately following breakfast. Once the most up to date reports on what was needed by this or that army were gathered, it was off to a flurry of meetings with lower ranking officers to listen to them through the doorway as they discussed mumbled strategies and troop movements while she stood just outside the door with her arms folded at the small of her back and her shoulder blades against the wall. She had considered, during a number of these meetings, to make a run for it, but the thought was fleeting. Even if she could break away from the hanyou, where would she go? There were still hundreds of doors she had not seen the other side of, and the castle, when moving faster than a casual stride, turned into a veritable labyrinth. 

Typically, once the morning meetings were completed, the pair would make their way to one of two places, the most entertaining typically being the council chambers where he would throw himself a tantrum. Each day, he tried to pass the guards at the door, and each day, the same woman would greet him with the same response. At this point, Kagome had learned to keep to herself in the back, contenting herself with the show and her own curiosity about the odd situation.

He knew they weren’t going to let him in. Well, not without the mask, anyway, and yet there they would be. Standing outside that familiar door and doing that familiar dance. Perhaps he wasn’t flexible so much as insane. Every semblance of uneasy sanity and flexibility merely a guise to hide the bubbling lunacy of the monster, the true Wild Dog, that rested just beneath the surface. 

Luckily the pair walked past the council halls entirely today. There were no guards posted, no tantrums thrown, and she released a shallow breath of relief at the lack of tension that she would need to deal with for the remainder of the afternoon. Instead, today was a training day. A few days a week--three or four--they would make their way to the training grounds. She remembered vividly the excitement she felt well up in her chest at the idea of daylight and the concept of a sneak peek into just what it was this dog was capable of. Surely, in his training she would see the full extent of his fighting style, as well as those of his comrades-in-arms.

How sorely she had been mistaken. 

After being forced to wait for a training area to even be made available by the other youkai in the yard, the hanyou would typically hand her his long coat and tell her to stay where she was as he went to train. Like a cat at a post, he would merely hack and slash at one of the dummies at one end of the soft sand arena. That appeared to be the extent of his ‘work out.’ Upon reflection, she realized it shouldn’t have been so surprising. Save for his agility and brutal aggression, she hadn’t seen much else out of him when she herself was his opponent. Nevertheless, it was a marked disappointment. 

The arena itself was unchanged as they entered from the tall double doors decorated in sparring bulls and accentuated with cranes soaring above their heads. The sun warmed the tops of their heads, beaming through the open roof and casting shadows on the layers of open air halls that lined the three stories sheltering the training grounds. Youkai surrounded them, roaring and grunting as they launched their assaults against one another and their training dummies. Weapons of all shapes and sizes were used by youkai of similar variety. The yard was alive with activity, as she was expecting. 

This day caught her off guard, however. Though typically he would be silent as they stepped into the light, she heard a disgruntled mumbling from the man in front of her as his pace stopping just short of the sandy pit. A hunched figure was sitting on one of the viewing benches beside InuYasha’s typical training area. His hair was a grey white and tied in a tight knot at the back of his head, facial hair of the same color jutting from of his upper lip out to either side of his face with a wispy frail beard dangling from his chin. Big, white eyes opened to reveal their bulged status as the pair entered the arena, though it wasn’t InuYasha he focused on.

“Oh!” he gasped, dropping his book and making his way toward the girl who was given plenty of room by the hanyou; the latter looked about as surprised as she did when spindly clawed fingers reached out to grasp her shoulders and hold her still. “Look at that; it’s a human girl!” he crowed with a nearly affectionate tone which, despite herself, caused her lips to curl into a shallow smile.

“You know who she is, old man,” InuYasha muttered irritably, lifting a hand to scratch with his little finger into one of his fur covered ears. “You were there for her sentencing.” Despite his nonchalant tone of voice, the golden eyes followed the old man's every movement, one ear constantly turned toward the pair. 

“Who are you, again?” she inquired, retracting a hand carefully from groping fingers that smoothed along her palms and fingers, inspecting the scars and rough callouses that resided there. The youkai didn’t seem to notice, or perhaps didn’t care, and he offered an amused, rot toothed grin at her. How old was this youkai? How long did they have to live to be this hunched and wrinkly? 

“You shoot arrows?” he asked, and both the hanyou and priestess focused their entire attention on the man with widened eyes.

Kagome nodded. “I am a priestess of the Fallen Mo-” The old man grinned. 

“As I thought!” he declared, cutting her off and moving toward the bench upon which he had been seated, crowing all the while as he moved and began digging about - a tall hammer twice the man’s height being tossed aside in lieu of a tall, well crafted bow. 

“What are you even implying?!” the hanyou bellowed, hands held out to either side of him with fingers so tightly curled that it looked as if he was about to disjoint each one from their knuckles. “You can- What are- Toutousai, damnit!” The old man returned, offering the bow and arrows to Kagome while his bulging wide eyes peered up at InuYasha defiantly, sending the hanyou into a flustered rage, “She’s a prisoner, damnit! Why are you  _ arming _ her!?” 

“She can’t use her spiritual powers, can she?” Toutousai retorted with a bland expression while Kagome herself couldn’t help but stare at the gesture, unable to stop the glance she sent in InuYasha’s direction. The look of absolute disbelief merged with the threat of wrath behind those amber eyes and the back turn of his ears was all it took for her to reach out and relieve the old man of his charge in her own show of defiance. 

“Fuck’s sake,” InuYasha growled. He threw his hands into the air, turning from the pair with the long silken coat swaying dramatically behind him. “If she shoots someone, it’s  _ your _ head, you old bastard!” 

“If she injures someone with these bows, I’ll hand her Tessaiga myself. She’ll have done more under my care than anything you’d have done with that stick of your-” the man was silenced by a hand gripping onto his forehead and tilting his head back, the silver-haired, dog-eared general now looming over him with wide eyes and a fanged grin.

“Come again, old man? I don’t think I heard you.” Though the request was simple it was obviously rhetorical. Toutousai looked sidelong toward Kagome, opening his mouth to respond, though he blinked - which was enough to send a flat stare in her direction from the hanyou as well. “Oi...” 

She couldn’t help it. The familiar feel of the bow in her hand, the first true sign of friendliness in this cold, foreign, castle, and the comically annoyed expression on her keeper’s face all led her to allowing a fond smile to fully bloom over her features. Not just fond, but bright and cheerful.

“What are you smiling about?” InuYasha asked, the lobes poking from the silver mane atop his head rotating with great interest at what she might have to say. 

“She’s smiling because she knows a good deal when she sees it, unlike some ungrateful, untalented ingrates,” the swordsmith whined, pushing past the hanyou who gripped his noble brow to come to the girl’s side and lead her toward the targets. InuYasha simply crossed his arms into his sleeves, glaring daggers at their backs as they retreated from him.    


The range had not been empty when they came to stand at the firing end - Toutousai taking the initiative in shoo’ing the other youkai of varying sizes away and clearing the targets at the end for her choice of shooting. Though she could have focused on the dirty looks and the creepy way some of them licked their lips, she couldn’t help but draw a parallel between how easily the old man had been able to remove them versus the fight and ultimate failure that the hanyou would have likely met. There was no way this rickety old coot could be of higher standing than the sulking boy behind them.

“We got plenty of arrows, girl,” came the old voice, tearing her from her thoughts and refocusing her on the task at hand. “Shoot as many as you please, but remember: without your spiritual powers, you’re no match for the occupants of this yard. I trust you have the sense not to do anything stupid.” 

Kagome nodded, “Of course.” And, without wasting any time, she notched her first arrow into the bow. The familiar pressure of the resistance of the string, the feel of the fletching against her fingers, it was almost as if she were someplace else. Two weeks outside of training made this moment all the more real, a return to home. She took a deep breath through her nose, lips parting to release it slowly as she walked carefully to the target at the far end of the range and fired. Each thump of the arrowhead burrowing itself into the target opposite her was like a symphonic melody as she began to pace her way down the line and back toward Toutousai. There was no hesitation with each draw and fire, trained accuracy so natural that each notch was like a breath in and release was a breath out. 

The man crowed when she reached him again, clapping and thrusting his hands into the air, fingers all pointing upwards. “Five out of five, girl! The stories are true about priestess aim!” 

“As if that would be a legend,” she preened, setting a hand on her hip with the bow rested against her shoulder yet the reprieve was short lived as another collection of arrows were shoved in her direction. “Again?” she inquired, looking quizzically back up to this Totousai who was grinning like a loon. A toothless, nearly bald, loon. 

“It’s the most excitement I ever get out here. Go on, go on,” he encouraged, making a shooing motion for her to continue back down the line. 

The priestess shifted her gaze over her shoulder toward the hanyou who was sitting on a nearby viewing bench for the firing range, sheltered by the edge of a shadow cast by the tree growing behind him. One leg was crossed over the other, ankle resting over his knee while his arms crossed over his chest, sword resting over his shoulder. His expression had regulated itself again, for the most part, and was only marred by the hint of a disapproving scowl. Those ears had their attention completely focused forward, every now and again rotating to take in the sounds surrounding them. Ever vigilant. 

“What?” he grunted, shoulders bristling just a bit when he finally seemed to snap out of wherever his attention had been to notice her staring at him. 

“You have no objections?” she asked, slipping her new collection of arrows into her quiver. Totousai leaned to peer around her, his lips a small ‘o’ shape as he looked at the hanyou. The attention seemed to fluster him further, ears flicking back and his shoulders lifting. His lips, too, went tight and pulled into a disgruntled frown as nostrils flared. 

“Not like it’s going to help! You’re just going to do it anyway!” he spat, leaning forward to do so just as the next arrowhead dug itself into its new home mere centimeters from the first. 

“I suppose you’re right.” she replied smugly, continuing to walk down the line and notching another arrow, easily ignoring the sputtering snarl of the silver haired man nearby. 

“And  _ you _ !” he growled, the sword removed from his shoulder and pointed to the old man who, consequently, lifted a finger to point to himself in question. “Yes  _ you _ ! What about  _ my _ training!” 

“And what training might that be? You haven’t let me so much as touch Tessaiga in years, you stubborn child,” the old man retorted, lifting an arm to cross over his eyes as he began to sob loudly and wildly. “My precious sword! My great Tessaiga left as nothing but a useless stick at the hip of a rube!” 

Kagome paused in her firing, having tuned the pair of them out in her task, to watch them as they bickered. The old man’s large crocodile tears began to stain his brown-striped, dark red sleeves, her own expression uneasy while her brown eyes snapped back to the now standing hanyou. 

“If I’ve not had any luck with it it’s because you’re obviously a terrible teacher!” The sword was rested, again, on his shoulder, a hand on his hip with his posture squared and challenging. That was more what she was familiar with, not the sulking boy sitting on the sidelines. 

“Tessaiga is the sword?” Kagome interjected, turning her attention from InuYasha to Toutousai, whose mouth had been open and about to offer another insult to the silver haired man. 

“Yes, Tessaiga is a sword. It’s a sword crafted from the fang of the great dog demon King, long since ascended.” All at once the tears were gone, the simpery, angry tone of voice turned to one of reverence and pride. “When used correctly it has the power to slay up to a thousand enemies in one sweep.”

“And the legends oversell it.” InuYasha scoffed, tapping the sword that rattled within its sheath before he lowered it - drawing the blade to reveal to the priestess the rusted, weakened twig of a sword. “The old man is delusional to his own workmanship. This thing couldn’t cut paper,  _ wet. _ ” 

‘All the better for me.’ Kagome thought, pursing her lips and looking over the rusty blade as it was replaced into the sheath. ‘The demons already cause us so much hardship on the front, to have such a weapon turned against us would be devastating to the cause.’ Her grip tightened on the bow, expression unable to shake the severe knit of her brows even as the two continued to complain. 

“At this rate you will never see the glory of the swor-” Totousai paused mid sentence, drawing Kagome out of her daze as InuYasha also turned his attention away from the conversation at hand and to the mass of grey fur that was gliding along the grass surrounding the firing range.

For a moment the head of the mass turned toward her, the skull of a baboon peering toward her. Or at least, she thought it was peering toward her. It was hard to tell when there were no eyes to be found within the empty, pitch black sockets. Something about the man sent a shiver down her spine, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. The eerie silence from the two companions of hers didn’t help the situation. 

InuYasha looked slightly down to the shorter figure as it approached him, leaning up to murmur a low rumble that caused the silvery ears to fold back and golden eyes to look to his right and then up. Her gaze followed the hanyou’s to find a figure standing on the second floor staring down at them. His frame was as intimidating as she remembered - bulked up by layers of fur and the thick metal frame of his armor that grew--like fangs in their own right--out from his shoulders. Even in the shadow cast by the floor above him, the very building behind him facing the sun, his own molten gold eyes shone through and felt as though they were trying to cut the three of them down from where he stood. Really, she realized just then, they were intensely focused on one person in particular. 

“General,” the man finally spoke, his voice smooth and quiet yet somehow booming over the now silenced yard. 

Silenced? She spared a glance over her shoulder noticing that yes, indeed the yard was silenced. Every set of eyes was focused upwards to their king. They didn’t take to a knee, they didn’t show any other physical sign of respect, but their complete attention was on his presence. When the Lord King Sesshoumaru spoke, his people listened. 

“Why do you persist on shaming yourself?” Sesshoumaru continued, gaze finally dragging toward Kagome who snapped her own gaze back up to his. On reflex, her posture righted itself, shoulders squaring and lips thinning into a straight line. Her brows lowered, knitting further over chocolate hued eyes, and yet her subtle show of force against him went ignored. “You’ve taken the grace of my mercy and have given it a bow and arrow. Not only that, but you squabble with the swordsmith before her. Have you not a drop of youkai blood in you at all?” 

Totousai stood, moving forward and speaking a scant, “My King, It was-” before a delicate hand was lifted to silence him from speaking further. 

“Your incompetence has been well documented in the lack of the fang’s potential being unleashed in its… chosen wielder.” The last two words dripped with venom as the pressure of the King’s gaze lifted from her finally and returned to his half brother. “I do not expect you to be any more of a disappointment than you are, but the General...” the demon trailed off, and she could sense the tension quickly thicken. 

“It will not happen again, My Lord,” InuYasha replied to his brother, his voice tight and his posture rigid with Tessaiga still gripped tightly against his palm. 

Sesshoumaru didn’t nod. He didn’t give acceptance. He stared flatly at the other man and then motioned with the same hand he had bid silence for toward Kagome. Without warning she was turned upon. She took a half step back as InuYasha quickly invaded her personal space. Her hands lifted, both still gripping a bow and arrow only to have the arrow snatched from her first and thrown aside. She lashed out on reflex, taking another step back and drawing the bow just out of his grip as he reached for that next, rotating the bow for the string to rest along her body and her hand to grip more to one end as she then swung it at him while on her retreat. 

Without the extra strength of her spiritual power to reinforce the bow it was easily caught in his grip - no tug of war offered as his strength easily overpowered her and the bow was snatched from her, his elbow colliding with the side of her face as his arm came back around. She stumbled and fell to the ground, hand coming up to hold onto the side of her face while the other propped up her upper body. In the moments it took for her sight to clear up she was able to spy the turn of her assailant back toward the Lord King. She could hear the snap of the bow, the one small slice of home that she had held, and the sound of the broken pieces colliding with the sand and grass at his feet. 

“Prepare for your trip,” the voice of the King sounded over the pounding of her heart beat. “You will be taking her with you.” The King must have turned away, as she heard the beginnings of movement around her as the other youkai began to resume their business. 

A hand gripped her arm and dragged her to her feet. Despite herself, she tried to yank her arm away, expecting it to be released, but she was not given such a luxury and she was all but dragged back to the hall that had guided them there. Her feet tried to dig in, head turning to catch a glimpse of something familiar, something she could grab hold of, but all she found was the image of Totousai passing her by. His eyes were cast away from the pair as she was moved - downwards. There was nothing even he, the youkai who had moved what the hanyou could not previously, could do to help her now. She wasn’t about to reach out to the stranger and potentially incur whatever threat had silenced him and changed the dog so much from his mannerisms before; even in this situation that would hardly be fair. 

Instead, she continued to struggle against the vice-like grip around her arm. Tugs, stumbles and the prying of her free hand tried to work the clawed fingers free but there was no good. It seemed that even the other occupants of the hall knew to keep far away from the issue at hand as even their typically prying eyes kept to themselves.

Finally, she looked up to his face, looking for the anger she felt in his grip, and yet she found something odd. He looked anxious and rigid. Completely focused on his destination. Brows were low over golden eyes and his lips created a tight line - jaw so set she could see the definition in the slope of his cheek bone the few times he would relax his grip only to tighten it again on his teeth. This bred a thousand questions while her fingers continued to pry at his own. She wanted to know what it was about the King that changed him so. To know if this was the new way of things, if that was the end of what little freedom she had held. She wanted to know why he permitted the King, his own brother, to speak to him as such and most of all…

She wanted to know where this ‘trip’ was going to take her. 


	7. Chapter 7

* * *

It was the middle of the night when she felt herself pulled from the bed and dropped onto the hardwood floor, blankets and pillows toppling over her. Grabbing and pulling at the fabric, she finally unburied herself only to have a change of clothes thrown at her and cover her once more. They weren’t exactly new, and though they were the same material as her others, the sleeves were long rather than the shorter, cropped cut she had been given up until now. Pushing the fabric into her lap, she looked up to spy the rigid figure of the hanyou as he moved in and out of the moonlight that filtered through the colored window panes. 

“Dog, what are you doing?” she grumbled, finally managing to get to her feet as he slipped back into the shadows behind the partition where he often changed into his daily clothes. 

“Get changed. We’re leaving,” was the low, rumbled reply, barely audible with the distance between them. It begged not to be argued with and she wasn’t about to push it. 

It was clear that nothing had changed from the afternoon prior. Since the training yard incident, the dog was sour and vicious in word and action; she was sure that upon slipping into her new shirt, she would find healing scratches against angry purple bruises with just how roughly he had dragged her back to the room and thrown her to the ground. Everything about his handling of her had changed in the flick of the King’s wrist, and without her spiritual power at her disposal, she wasn’t going to challenge him. 

Their usual rituals were handled in silence. The bed was made, his makeup applied and both of their clothing changed, but it wasn’t the doorway that he approached despite her standing at the ready to open it when he was prepared to leave. Instead, he climbed up and onto his window seat, reached up to the large latch just within arm’s reach, and flipped the lock to push the entire panel - including all of the smaller glass panels - open. His left hand held onto the thick frame that separated the two large panels while he eased further out of the window, the dim moonlight catching on the strands of silver hair as a cool breeze swept over him and sent hair and light fabric of his attire into a subtle dance. 

Fingers slipped from the doorknob as she watched him in his investigation. Every movement he made was calculated and practiced, his eyes canting toward the sky to the left of the window then down below. His fingers only gripped tighter on the window, evidenced by the deepening shadows between his knuckles. Even the material he wore was a marked change in their usual situation. Instead of the pure, soft and flowing white and red clothing he wore, it was a dark, crimson affair. The sleeves were tied about the elbow and wrist, folded and wrapped around a few times to keep them tight despite the length she knew they had when fully released. His trousers were the same color, restricted to the same length as the usual white clothing, and they billowed out over the tops of his knee-high, thick leather wrapped boots. Her throat was dry, the tip of her tongue skating over her lips to try to keep them from being too dry as she felt the anxiety rise only further from the pit of her stomach. His silence was thick and suffocating, and she was about to pass out. 

Finally, he turned toward her, golden eyes flashing as the night only served to provide more contrast to the striking golden pools now framing round, dilated islands. She swallowed. 

“Come here.” 

She moved forward, a few quick strides guiding her to the window seat, though she stopped just one step shy. With these changing times and moods, she wasn’t going to violate one of the earliest rules set of the situation; the window seat was off limits. It wasn’t until he reached out and took up a fistful of her dark green shirt, dragging her up and onto the cushion himself, that she further climbed up and onto her hands and knees at his side. The grit of the stonework outside of the window caught under her nails as her hands were laid on the base of the open window beside his left foot, and she was reminded just how anxious she was by just how cold the evening breeze was across her heated hands and face. 

“Don’t say a word. Don’t make a sound,” InuYasha demanded, breaking the quiet silence of the night and drawing her gaze up to him. “If you make a single noise I will drop you and be rid of this whole situation.” His eyes finally dropped back to her from their resumed position on the rooftops to his left. She refused to flinch.

“What is happening?” she inquired, matching her volume to his own; it was as hushed as the breezes that passed them by. 

“Don’t. Say. A word,” he reiterated, snorting through his nose and looking back to the roofs. His posture changed fluidly as he rocked forward onto the foot on the sill, lifting the other off of the cushion and stepping out entirely to brace himself on the shingles of the slanted roof just outside of the window. An arm reached out for her once he was settled, clawed fingers gripping first at the front of her shirt to pull her toward him, then around her waist to drag her out and under his arm. 

She was abruptly reminded of just how high up they were while he manhandled her, and it took her hands coming to her mouth to stifle the sound of a distressed yelp. The material he wore was thick and rough, an unpleasant sensation against her arms. Knees bent, bringing her ankles and the heels of her sandaled feet up to her rear. The hanyou, meanwhile, shot her a peevish stare from under half lidded eyes. 

“Close the window,” he hissed quietly, his grip having slipped more to the exterior window frame and her position changing to rest more on his side than being handled by his arm while he nodded to the window that was well within her arms’ reach. 

Nodding, she reached out for the pane, slowly and carefully closing it. Her hands then reached up to flip an external hook, latching the window from the outside. It had crossed her mind to ask why exactly anyone would find any use in a window that locked from both sides, but the words were stifled by her hands again as they were on the move. 

With fearless leaps, the hanyou moved across the rooftop, hopping from tier to tier of the tall tower that they called ‘home’ with only the soft sound of scraping shingles and snapping fabric to show they were there at all. How he managed such a feat with himself being none too small and her own weight compromising the situation was beyond her; a feat of youkai skill, she was sure. All of the good the smooth ride did for her, however. She made the mistake of peering down at their first real jump and felt the immediate repercussion of her stomach falling from her. 

That was certain death beneath her. If the fall didn’t kill her, which it most likely would, the marching guardsman certainly would. There really was no escape from this fortress, not with her meager human abilities. 

Her body flailed a little when she felt her knees brush against the shingles, startling her as her eyes had been closed, her hands covering her mouth since that first glance. Before her feet could cause a racket they were airborne and she felt her body nearly fold in half around his arm to the force of the leap as they shot directly upwards. In their upward momentum, she gripped his arm and lifted her head as they began to slow in the height of his leap. 

Stars! As far as she could see across the open, clear sky there were stars laid out in a sheet, only stopping when they reached the tall, snow-capped mountains she could just barely make out in the hazy distance. Her lips parted in amazement; it felt as though time had slowed only to give her that glimpse of light, and neither the sensation of the biting cold, nor her cheek being tickled by the slowly lifting, short-cropped waves of raven tresses as they began to fall could distract her attention. It was, instead, the whistling sound of wind that began to wrap around the pair that drew her thoughts away - their fall slowing with no ground in sight, just the wall directly in front of them. A gust of visible energy, now gathered about his ankles and under his feet, provided a small step stool of sorts for him to push off of. The pressure wasn’t nearly as aggressive, but when they finally broke fully from the threshold of the roof, the entire sky opened up and the sea of the city beneath them, illuminated with candle light, finally took her breath away. 

For a moment, she allowed herself to forget about her imprisonment. For a moment, she merely absorbed the beauty she was gifted before it was gone. 

His feet tapped onto the flat of the roof of the tallest tower (second to his own). There wasn’t much to be seen, but there was certainly something out of place. A carriage sat in the center of the roof - a single large, two headed beast turning its massive heads to stare at the new company with a low, rumbling hiss from its chest; its muzzles were restrained. Where she had expected to be set down at that point, she was not. Instead, she was carried to the carriage by the hanyou, left immobile as he pulled open the heavy door and then unceremoniously tossed her inside. 

“What’s the-” she had begun, pushing on the floor of the carriage to lift her shoulders and turn her head about to face the man who was being so rough, but she was halted by a hand. Over her mouth his rough palm went, clawed fingers of his other hand digging into her shoulder as she was shoved to the floor of the carriage and the hanyou was looming over her, blocking out what little light was coming from the stars and city behind him. Her eyes were wide as they stared up into his, now mere inches away from her own and framed by long grey bangs, her body rigid under his as she was suddenly reminded once again of her vulnerability. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. The message was very clear. 

Slowly, he eased up from over top of her, his close proximity growing more evident as she realized just how far he was moving for her to feel relieved from his smothering presence. A hand slipped behind her head, the former still over her mouth, and he began to ease her back. Her arms quickly took the initiative to paw at the wooden floor and find purchase, pushing herself back and up to sit, then she gripped onto the cushioned seat as he continued to ease her upwards, lifting himself to a knee, then a foot. His hand finally removed itself once the back of her head was against the drapes of the boarded window behind the chair. Her eyes watched as he turned his head, reaching back to take hold of the first bar under the drapes of the window on the door and very slowly, very carefully tug it closed, blocking out any shred of light. 

The pounding of her heart went absolutely silent. Her eyes widened, trying to soak up any light she could, and she gripped the cushion under her to will her body not to shake - all to no avail. Her lips were tight, but her cheeks quivered with the pressure she was holding in her neck not to move under the warmth of his palm, and this only brought more attention to the sharp claws that brushed against her jaw with every particularly rough shake. The click of the lock on the door sent a shock down her spine, and she felt his fingers tighten around her face, muffling the sound of a whimper. 

The ground beneath their feet seemed to move, the entire carriage silently shifting from side to side as a feeling of weightlessness greeted her. They lifted for what felt like an eternity, the carriage creaking as everything tilted to the left and her back was pressed into the cushion now with their forward momentum. It was then that the hanyou finally released her, moving away and - she assumed - to the other side of the small box within which she was now trapped. 

Inhaling slowly through her nose, she released a long breath from her lips to calm her nerves while her ankles crossed and her knees tucked closer to her in an effort to distance herself from the now foreign personality. 

“Where are we going?” she asked, barely above a whisper, damning the evident quiver in her voice despite her best efforts to push it off. 

“Away,” he grunted, illuminating his face with a shaft of light as he hooked a little finger into the curtain behind his own head to peer outside - just enough to show the severity in the expression of his left eye. She pursed her lips, squaring her shoulders. 

“Why?” This was more of a success in balancing her voice, but she kept it quiet still lest he decide to sit on her again. 

“Does it matter?” he responded dismissively. 

“Am I to be executed?” she inquired in turn, now sitting ramrod straight and defiant. “As punishment for the arrows?” 

The golden eye had turned toward her by then, brow lowered in such a way that she could tell his expression was his usual vexed confusion. 

“Is that your question?” he asked sternly, “Because I’m tired and looking to be rid of this conversation.” 

She eased some to the return to the game, adjusting in her seat and opting for another question instead. “Where are we going?” she inquired again, “The answer ‘Away’ is not sufficient. I already know we’re going away.” 

The drape was dropped again and she could hear him moving by the sounds of the thicker material of his clothing and the whine of the wood beneath him. In the darkness every sound was amplified, even the huff of his breath and the sound of his ears moving and thumping against the wood gently. “We’re going to another castle.”

“This is not a punishment, then?” she pressed, earning a snarl in return. 

“It will turn into one if y’don’t shut your damned trap, woman. Do us both a favor and go to sleep or something,” the darkness hissed back at her, causing her to jump. The message was loud and clear; his finite patience had finally been exhausted on the matter. 

She shuffled to the opposite corner of the carriage from his own, knees drawn up to her chest. Her head rested against the wall as she looked toward the door, peeking through the curtain whenever a breeze would catch it just right to flash a short glimpse of the world they were soaring over. Oceans of thick trees were highlighted by pale moonlight, every now and again the speckling of warm lamplight flickered as they passed over a small village on the outskirts of the city, but for the most part the hills of forestry were dark. It was a stark contrast to her own homelands, always so flat or mild in their topography. Farmlands and open fields. They had an occasional forest and mountain region, but by and large there was nothing so spectacular, at least from what she could see in the haze of night. 

The thump of the cart came only seconds before she was on the ground and jostled from her sleep. When she had managed to find slumber, she didn’t know that it would be so short lived. Groggy eyes peered around the small space of the cart through her mussed bangs and short strands that had fallen over her face. Sweeping a hand through her hair, she realized she was able to actually see the details of the interior of the room: the faint outlines of the wood grain and woven fabric that wrapped about the cushions of their seats. And the hanyou. 

He was sitting with his back to the wall, one foot propped with knee bent on the cushion while the other was draped down and across the floor. With his head leaned back, cheek against the wall, he used two fingers to pull back the red curtain, letting a stark shaft of light illuminate a strip in his face; the golden eye gleamed against the slit of a cat-like pupil. Before she had chance to comment, his attention shifted toward her and his ears pinned back against the long, tangled strands of his silver hair. Grunting, he shoved past her, moving across the small space to open the door and let the flood of daylight crash into her. It was blinding as he disappeared into it, disorienting her as she crawled along the floor and was left gripping the edge just before the first step leading to the ground outside. 

“Wait!” Kagome called desperately as she heard his footsteps growing more distant, an arm coming up to shield her from the sun as her pupils began to adjust. “Hold on, where are...we..?” 

The structure was tall before her, a large stone statue of a dreamlike hound reaching for the skies above. His long tail curled and criss-crossed over the podium upon which it stood to cradle the image of what appeared to have once been a woman. Climbing out of the carriage and stepping into the shadow of the statue, Kagome focused on the woman who was missing her face, beaten away by claws and crude hammers. Her hands had been ripped asunder, and the majority of her clothing was in tatters in the form of rubble at her feet. Even with the protective presence of the massive guardian, she was no match for her assailants. 

“What are you gawking at, woman?” Inuyasha spat, drawing her attention from the statue to the hanyou who she could now tell was garbed entirely in red. He was armored, as usual, though he looked tired. His hair was tangled, ponytail once high now hanging lower from his thrashing about the night before and the long journey to their current destination. 

“I was just...” she began, looking from her companion, then back up to the statue curiously. She reached a hand out to clear away some of the moss and overgrowth that had crept its way up the dog’s tail at the base of the podium upon which the statue stood - she felt her neck about to break with how far back she had to tilt her head to see the maws far above. 

“You were just leaving. You shouldn’t linger out here,” he advised, thick brows knitting further over golden orbs as she insisted on continuing to threaten to scale said tail. “ _ Woman _ ,” he barked, beginning to trudge his way toward her. The declaration had her turn, hands slamming into her hips and her stance hardening in defense against his approach. 

“My name, again, isn’t _woman,”_ she announced, “It is Kago-hey!” He grabbed her arm roughly, claws digging through the material of her green shirt. She struggled so much to catch her footing, she didn’t have the ability to try to pry his fingers loose, though she doubted she would have much luck either way. 

“I don’t care what your name is. If we get overrun by hungry wolves I’m not getting killed over some stupid human,” he snarled, moving across the courtyard and up the stone steps to the tall, arching doorway. The windows on either side had long since been reinforced by what looked like intricately designed bars in the form of fire crawling all the way up to the pointed tops of the opening. 

“Wolves?” Kagome inquired, grunting as she was thrust to the floor with one final shove following the slam of the door behind them. Turning about on the floor she rubbed her hip, glowering up to the hanyou who was already beginning to check the lock, securing it and beginning to unlock the bolt for the door in order to lower it. “Why would wolves be a problem here? You’re the wild dog, your brother is the King, and we’re in a castle.” She pushed herself to her feet, stepping closer to his back as he lowered the board and fastened it across the doors. 

“We’re not in the capitol anymore, if you haven’t noticed,” he sneered through gritted teeth, brandishing his fangs at her as he looked over his shoulder. “Between here and the human lands is wild. The wolf tribes protect it, but they take their pound of flesh as they like and they would love to sink their teeth into a young human like you.” He turned, coming on the approach again in that predatory way she had witnessed in the mud that night that felt so long ago - head lowered, shoulders squared and posture rigid. “And you are here, no powers and just me to defend you.”

Swallowing down her growing unease, the woman crossed her arms, tilting her chin up defiantly, “What, is the great wild dog afraid of the big, bad wolf?” 

“One wolf, no. They’re easy enough on their own, but everyone knows they travel in packs.” He brushed past her, shoving her with his shoulder as he began down the hall. “Don’t test your luck here. Even if you tried to run, we’re miles from the border, and if the wolves don’t get you, the wildlife and guard posts will find you and destroy you.” 

Though she was inclined to fight back, threaten him with the possibility of survival, she knew what he said was true. Despite being away from the castle, she could sense her spiritual powers were completely bottled, left from her fingertips and leaving her absolutely useless. If what he said was true, which she could only partially believe, then the chances of her making it more than a few yards outside of the castle seemed slim. If there was anything she had learned about youkai in her training, it was that many of them had noses that were sharp, the slightest difference in their environment enough to send them running. She’d be a sitting duck. 

Kagome winced as she heard the slam of a door somewhere in the more modest castle. InuYasha was going to be no help, and seemed as pleased to be there as she was at the moment. At least he knew why they were there while she was left locked into this cavernous cage. Left to her own devices, she proceeded to wander up and down the halls. 

The castle was more modest than Sesshomaru's by a wide margin. No towering windows lit her path wherever she went; instead, she was forced to light a torch and carry it from hall to hall to light her way. Each one only burned long enough for her to get to the next by the time what little fuel she had discovered gave out. There were no servants, no hanyou. No other youkai. No nothing. Just dust and the sound of her own footsteps and breathing. The silence that enveloped her day was suddenly deafening. Had she truly taken for granted what it was to be surrounded by others? At this point, she would rather be stuck in that bedroom with the wild dog in contrast to this. 

‘No,’ she thought flatly, opening a pair of large doors as if she owned the castle, sending dust this way and that to reveal a dining room similar to that at the capitol. ‘Not even this place could want me to suffer his presence again.’ 

She wandered for what seemed like hours, observing any room she came across. A theme soon emerged - despite the castle not having any structural damage, it did appear that the inside had been sacked. Tables were overturned, beds were destroyed. There was little by way of furniture that had not been strewn about. Even the artwork had been demolished, statues of creatures both fearsome and delicate were destroyed and brought to pieces on the floor around their base. Nothing was left unturned, which only increased her unease as she tried to find her way back toward the barred doorway. Despite the damage, she realized that in the prime of this grand place, it must have been a sight to behold. The light bounced off of stone walls which, scratched and beaten as they were, still gave glimpses of their craftsmanship; the paintings and furniture, even destroyed, still had an elegance to them. Whoever had lived here must have been both loved and reviled once for it to be in such a state as it was now. None of this, however, answered the question as to why she would be stuck here in the present. 

By the time she found a window, it was twilight, the sky illuminated with the hint of the sun setting over the forested mountains. It was from that window in the second floor hallway that she noticed the layout of this castle’s surroundings were far different. She could see the courtyard and that grand statue, but the walls surrounding it were far shorter than what she had been used to in the capitol. They guarded their grounds and their grounds alone, coated in ivy and blooming flowers. Just outside of the walls was a long walk, leading down a steep hill and disappearing out of sight. She could just make out what she imagined to be a village, what could be a bustling village if it wasn’t overgrown with trees and brush that dotted the main streets where there was enough room to grow. Roofs had fallen in, and tree cover obscured what was left until the falling darkness took it completely out of sight. 

Now, she was completely alone. Now, she was sincerely unsettled. 

With what little light she had left from her current companion torch, the priestess went to work. Gathering what she could, she began moving from torch to torch to begin stripping them of what was left of their fuel, pouring it into one basin and wringing out what hadn’t already dried into layers of tattered drape. The spent fabric she then tossed aside. When she was satisfied with the flame and its power - assuming what she had gathered would buy her enough time to last her through the long night - she began seeking out anything she could use as a potential weapon. She might have InuYasha in the building, but she wasn’t about to rely only on his claws to defend her, not when they were apart in this monster maze. 

A hand drew along the wall as she searched, moving quietly down yet another hall and trying to keep her feet as quiet as possible, slow and easy heel-to-toe steps to minimize the sound of her filthy feet on the cold floor. The temptation to call out for him was high - there was no sign of him after all - but the reminder of predators kept her voice silent. If she couldn’t sense, see, or hear him, she suspected he likely had the same issue, and the chances of both him and a potential squatter hearing her damsel calls was just too heavy on her shoulder. Instead, she kept vigilant, pausing at a toppled over table that was already missing one of its legs. Another was half broken off, thick at the top and narrower at the bottom, ending in an angry set of talons clutching a sphere. A perfect cudgel. 

Looking around for a place to set her torch, she groaned and decided to hold it in her mouth between her teeth, hands reaching down to grip hold of the table leg. Lifting her foot, she made to shove it into the bottom of the table and pull on the leg, but given that there was nothing to brace the table on itself, the table flopped back and forth, threatening to fall out under her foot and snap the leg out of her grip. After the first blunder, she measured up the weight of the object, looking over its long length and releasing an all too InuYasha grunt of frustration.

After a moment more of contemplation, the woman released another long breath from between her teeth, adjusting the torch held there. Rubbing her palms together, she spread out her feet, shaking out her hands and hopping from toe to toe in preparation. She was not about to be defeated by a middle-of-the-hall table. With a snarling battle cry into the foul tasting metal torch, she gripped onto the side of the table, hoisting it up just enough that her forward momentum would allow her to drag it across the floor and to the wall opposite her, the weight causing her to ultimately drop it once it slammed into the wall. The whole activity culminated in a long, angry, scraping shriek that ended with an echoing crash; she looked up to find the commotion had even caused some of the drapes further down the hall to flutter. So much for keeping quiet. At least now InuYasha might be looking for her. 

With the table properly supported, her foot returned to the bottom of the table, hands gripping the table leg. “Heave, ho, heave, ho…” she chanted around the torch, pulling and rotating the wooden leg back and forth in time with its whines and cracks of protest. “I swear… by the mother…” she continued, feeling her progress was nonexistent after five minutes of working the table leg loose, “When the youkai king falls… and his lands are finally ours… I will return to this place… and burn it to the ground!” 

Her face was beginning to sheen with sweat, the fire, already all too close to her skin, now growing closer with every swing and bob. Chocolate orbs came up to peer at the licking flames just in time to notice something else. Movement. In a start, she gave a rough yank to the leg, the object finally coming free and sending her stumbling back a few steps. Her throat went dry as she gave a thick, fruitless gulp. Warily, her hand lifted to take the torch out from between her teeth, and she called into the darkness a feeble, “Inu...Yasha?” that didn’t even echo. Plucking up some courage, she took a step forward, her voice increasing in volume, “InuYasha, is that you?” She didn’t have his hearing, but there was no mistaking the hint of bare footsteps. 

Against her better judgement, she began down the hall at a quick pace, turning the corner just in time to see a hint of light extinguished at the far hall. Her heart stopped, and she could feel herself run cold. There was someone here. It wasn’t him; he wouldn’t run from her. Maybe it was a squatter, but it was obviously not a wolf. He said they would eat her. Or maybe they were laying a trap? 

‘That would be too much planning…’ she thought over the sudden pounding of her pulse in her ears, her steps now slow as she began to walk sideways down the hall, one foot over the other, the torch held in front of her, the leg of the table held up and at the ready to swing from behind her while she approached the light that filtered under the closed doorway. ‘They wouldn't have had time to scheme a way to jump me. Maybe this is why we’re here… He’s been running out squatters from the castle… He couldn’t have me help because they’re probably youkai, too.’ It didn’t make sense, she knew, but nothing about this entire situation made a lick of sense. Dragged out here under the cover of night, the dog acting so viciously and coldly - well, more so than normal. She was days from home, and with flight she couldn’t tell how many days it would be before she could make it back to the youkai capitol on foot. If she would even want to return there. Without InuYasha or her spiritual powers, would she even be able to make it? InuYasha… What if this thing had already done him in? What if that was why she hadn't seen him all day? 

She was at the door, now, light shining over her toes from the other side in a flickering glow that signified fire. She was on the brink of either a courageous victory or an utter disaster, and which one it would be, she could not at all be sure. All she knew, now, was that her hand was on the doorknob, and her weapon was at the ready. With one deep breath, she turned the knob and thrust the door open, throwing herself into the room, prepared to inquire as to just who was there. 

A flash of light and she was stumbling, her back hitting the wall on the other side of the hallway and the torch dropped somewhere on the ground, extinguished in the sudden fall. It took her a moment to gather her wits, eyes focusing just in time to see the retreating figure heading back toward the door. 

“Hold it!” she called, speeding forward with hand outstretched to try to grab hold of the cloak. She was batted away as the figure turned on her, and the same hand that halted her grasp then rose to backhand her across the face, sending her stumbling with light and spots across her vision. “Oh, no. No you do not,” she spoke through gritted teeth, the balls of her feet turning her about and sending her barreling back at the doorway. She shoved her shoulder into it just as it was about to close. 

The door came off of its hinges, forced free by the sudden collision from both sides and collapsing to the floor as the two figures separated. There was no moment of reprieve, however, and they clashed once again. The cloaked figure swiped out back and forth, though he was no match for the smaller, faster girl as she slipped in and out of his grappling range. Though this enemy seemed trained, it was not enough. A quick right hook to where she assumed the assailant’s face was sent him reeling, and her pace continued as she used the leg of the chair to sweep the other direction and send the much larger figure to the ground. 

It scrambled, clawing and reaching for what appeared to be a travel pouch, the glint of a scabbard catching her eye from the fire that had been weakly burning in the fireplace. 

“Not so fast!” she commanded, bringing the wooden weapon down on the squatter’s back, sending them to the floor with a winded grunt. What she hadn’t expected was, with her second swipe, for the weapon to be grabbed by a powerful hand and yanked from her grip. Now disarmed, she made a quick retreat, hopping a few steps backwards as the figure came to its feet and re-adjusted the weapon to fit more comfortably in its own hands. This wasn’t good. 

Without a second thought, her hands began reaching out for another item, finding purchase on the back of a chair behind her. As the squatter continued to approach, she began to bargain. “Where are you from? W-why are you here?” She continued to withdraw, her back quickly pressing against the chair. She reached her left hand over her torso to grip. “I-I swear, if you did something to my companion, the King will have… Will have words for you!” 

The other hand of the squatter began to reach out, looking far too declawed and rough to be youkai, but far too foreign to be trusted. A rumbling sound threatened to erupt from her newfound enemy, abruptly cut off as she took her charge. Gripping onto the chair, she lifted it from the ground, swinging it into the assailant so hard that the back of it broke away from the seat. The cloaked figure didn’t drop to the ground, but he did drop the far more efficient table leg, which she swept down to retrieve as she passed him by. Turning, she used her momentum to drive the cudgel swiftly into the back of his leg. He fell to the ground with a cry of pain. 

The priestess wasted no time. One swing after another, she showered the man with a sound beating, seeing flashes of red as he flailed in protest. A lot of red. Far too much to be blood. Truth be told, his body wasn’t making the typical sounds she would expect from one whose owner would be begging; the ring of thick leather or metal caught her ears more than the thump of wood against flesh and bone.

“Stop! Stop!” A hand shot out again, but this time in defeat, “By the will of the Dog, stop it, damnit!” 

That voice…

“What did you do to the Wild Dog?” she lifted her cudgel again, high over her head. This man murdered him. Stole his armor, stole his sword. There was no youkai blood here, she would sense it. There was no other explanation. “Where is he!?” 

“What, are you worried?” he inquired bitterly, a hand reaching up to his hood to yank it away, revealing the face of a soundly beaten human man, nose and lip bleeding and mussed black hair hanging loosely to frame his angled features. “The priestess has a fuckin’  _ heart _ ?” 

“Silence!” she snapped, threatening to lower the wooden hammer again, a gesture which earned both of his hands lifting and shaking in protest, urging her not to. 

“Can you not fuckin’ recognize me even now!? Look at me!” he insisted. 

And so she did, attention drawing down his figure. Red fabric, armor… long golden sash…

“So, you stole his clothing,” she insisted, brows furrowing defiantly. 

“I thought you knew about hanyou and youkai. They used to live among the humans, just like they do with us,” he quipped in agitation. 

“I know plenty! But there’s nothing to suggest they would up and… Turn…” She was suddenly returned to a time sitting in a modest classroom, an elderly woman sitting beside her and showing her what passages to study. The specific chapter on hanyou and their life cycles. Of their weaknesses and of their… “Human.” She blinked, squinting down to the man, “You’re a human?” 

“Took you damn near long enough,” he griped, trying to crawl out from under her. A foot firmly planted onto his chest, shoving him back into a sprawl, and his body froze under the pressure. Slowly, his attention swept up her leg and to the suddenly contemplative face of the woman who now had him trapped. A cat who had found a bird with a broken wing. 

This was the wild dog and she had him at her mercy. He was unable to fight back, and she could destroy one of the prime forces of the youkai King right here and now. She had already proven she could defeat him in a fight when on solid ground, and how often would she truly have this opportunity? In a world where she wasn’t entirely certain she would make it to the next day, let alone the next month, she couldn’t possibly pass this up. For how many lives she could save, for what a blow it could serve to their forces. She would likely not be able to return, but that would also keep her enemies from being able to use her against her people. 

The youkai general was lying there, still and at her mercy. He could try to fight her off, but if he didn’t kill her, she would just keep coming after her. If he did kill her, as a prisoner of the King, he could easily end up dying once he returned home. Sesshoumaru didn’t seem entirely fond of her, but she took solace in the fact that he seemed even less taken with his lesser brother. She had all of the cards, and the defiant look in his face told her that he was very well aware of that fact. 

“Woman, if you’re going to do it, just fuckin’ do i-Augh, fuck!” He was silenced as quickly as he’d spoken up as she started to beat on him again, one swipe after another aimed at his shoulders and at his sides, but not his face. Finally, she dropped to her knees, straddling his chest and sending a firm punch to his jaw. Before he had a chance to retaliate, she placed her hand on his face and used it to shove herself to her feet, trudging toward the fire and tossing the leg of the table to the side with a hollow clatter. Unceremoniously, she flopped to the floor, tugging her knees up to her chest and hugging them there. 

InuYasha sat up, wincing as he did so, but refusing to groan from the throbbing pain he was experiencing after the altercation. Despite the obvious tension in the air, he said nothing. He didn’t appear inclined to rush to her side and pick another fight, and she was relieved he had enough of a self preservation instinct to keep quiet. Instead, they were forced into silence, the crackling of the fire and the sounds of his feeling along his ribs and occasionally sniffling up some blood the only conversation between them. 

The inevitability did come, however, as he came into her peripheral vision. The cloak, which she now recognized was just a sheet he’d carefully wrapped around himself to cover his long black hair, was still pulled over his shoulders, returned to situate atop his head but not so far that she couldn’t see his face. The silence was broken. 

“Why?” he inquired with a tense rasp. 

“Why, what?” she grumbled in return, not bothering to look directly at him, instead focusing on the meager flames that were keeping her warm on this cold, northern night. 

“You know ‘why, what.’” His face turned to her, swollen and still smeared with blood despite his efforts to clean it up. 

“You saved my life,” was her simple response. “A life for a life; you won’t be so lucky next time.” Arms tightened a little more about her knees, and he adjusted his weight to face her. 

“Bullshit! I know how many people of yours I’ve taken as well as you do, and you know damned well I’m going to be taking scores more! Have you already turned on your people?” Perhaps it was his pride, that some mere human had mercy on him, but his ranting wasn’t sitting well with her. 

“What, you’d rather I’d have killed you? Defenseless and weak in some castle, isolated from your armies? T’ch, like I would shoulder such a shameful victory.” She shrugged as her head shook, as if she were truly bothered at the prospect. As if she hadn’t been entirely prepared to do just that. 

His brows furrowed, his posture relaxing a bit more as whatever inscrutable goal he had was met. “You’re a warrior. You stab me every morning in protest. You could have made a hell of a shiv out of that block of wood,” he still pushed, though he was more wary now. He eyed her across the two-foot distance between them. 

“I could have,” she nodded, inhaling a long breath through her nose, releasing it via parted lips, “But I didn’t. I’m a human, not a youkai. I’m not a monster.” Her pale lips pursed, her eyes determined as she finally focused heavily on the hanyou turned human. “Mercy in times like these. Understanding and honor. That is what will make me strong. Will help my people persevere.” InuYasha looked away midway through her statement, jaw set and gaze digging into the embers of the fire. A poker was taken up and he proceeded to try to stoke it, to help both of their vulnerable bodies feel a little bit better. 

“I bet you were just scared of the wolves.” 

“There are no wolves. You were just trying to scare me so you didn’t have to babysit me,” she stated confidently, lifting her chin to show she was secure in her statement. 

A wet, awkward scoff came from the man, a bubble of blood popping from his right nostril. She fought back a snort of her own in amusement at his appearance. “There are lots of wolves. The tribes patrol the lands, like I said. We have east and west tribes that are spread out all over the mountain ranges.” Once the fire was sufficiently stoked, he set the poker aside, crossing his legs in front of himself and draping his arms - for once not wrapped or completely covered by silks, but instead with rough, red fabric - over his knees. 

“The King lets them do as they will? That doesn’t seem very much like him. Don’t your peop- ah… Youkai inhabit the youkai lands?” she couldn’t help herself from asking, curiosity piqued with the prospect of more details about the layout of this dark spot in her knowledge: the lands on the other side of the divide. 

“Wolves are more trouble than they’re worth to contain. Too wild, as my dad apparently used to say. Sometimes, you get the most loyalty when you permit freedom, and Sesshoumaru sure as hell had no luck forcing them.” His own dark eyes lifted to meet hers. “They have their uses, too. Anyone who tries to flee the capital, or flees the field to try to return home from battle, is fair game for them. They protect us from the inside and out.” He shrugged. “As for our occupations, when Sesshoumaru took power, he consolidated everyone. We used to be a bunch of tribes, all spread out, but it was deemed too dangerous. That there was safety at the heart of the lands. Any outliers, for farming or gathering materials, are only permitted out for short periods of time under supervision.” 

“B-but we’re at  _ war _ . How does that tactic sustain your armies? Keep your garrisons upkept? There’s no way-” she was cut off by a chuckle, InuYasha shaking his head in amusement. 

“You’ve seen what we can do. You think we’d need more than a few days to gather up what would take you pathetic humans months? Youkai can manipulate the earth, create rains and fires. If we really wanted to, we could hold up in the capital for years; the only reason we extend outwards is  _ because _ of the war.” A hand reached out, condescendingly patting her on the head as he puckered his lips, baby talking, “Stupid hooman.” 

Batting his hand away, she couldn’t hold it back this time, and with a short laugh she turned her knees down, tucking her feet closer to her as she rested her weight more on her hip and a palm of her hand. “Why are you telling me all of this? You know what I can do with it when I get released.” 

“Well, you sound hopeful about that ‘when’.” He leaned more toward the fire, a raven sidelock falling from the shadows of his hood to show how much thinner his hair looked now that he was human. It didn’t hold the same volume or thickness; it was just as vulnerable as the rest of his body, but equally soft, she was sure, as when it was silver. “You should live in a state of reality. You’re never going home. This is your end destination.” 

Despite the lightening mood, she let her fingers curl into the material of her skirt. It was something she had thought of, and almost come to terms with, but it was something that she refused to let ring true. She couldn’t give up so easily. Throw her hands up and just settle for existing until the motion was finally made to make her an example. She would taste freedom one day. With that thought in her mind, she replied, “I refuse to believe that.” She spoke sternly, though not unkindly. The sentiment must have been amusing, because his brows had lifted and the right corner of his lip curled up in an amused and unconvinced grin. “I mean it. Until I am dead, there is always a chance I will escape, or be released, or be liberated. Whichever happens first. I will do it, whatever it is, that needs to be done. Even if it’s just surviving until the opportunity strikes.” 

“For you to go home?” he replied, that tone of disbelief remaining, haughty and sure. 

“For me to be free, yes.” 

“You had the opportunity to do that tonight. Wolves or not, you could have made a break. Go savage and use my shit as a cover for your scent. You’re quick witted, for sure.” 

‘Is he complimenting me?’ Her brows furrowed, shoulders bristling. “I think there is more to me being here, and there is more to me staying here, than is worth me running into the night like that. There is good that can be done here.” 

“While in chains?” 

“Yes.” 

“Stuck in the youkai capital. Weeks from home. With Sesshoumaru.” He was shifting to less amused and perhaps drifting into taking her sanity into question. 

“And you. You saved my life.” She lead, tilting her head as she worked to better observe his reaction. 

“I don’t think so. I know, no matter what, you’re going to die here, either if I’m ordered to, or if Sesshoumaru decides to lob off your head on a whim. You were fucked the moment you fell on the battlefield. All I did was delay the inevitable, knowing it would cause your troops to be more cautious because we have you,” he announced, as if she hadn’t been there to hear his reasoning. 

“I see,” she offered, tight-lipped as she looked back to the fire and away from his peering gaze. 

“Do you regret not offin’ me, now?” he inquired. 

“No,” she replied just as easily. 

“Why?” 

“Is that your question?” she quipped back, eyes half lidded. She didn’t have the chance to catch his quite taken aback expression. 

It took a moment of thought, his attention skittering across the floor before he offered his decision. “Yes.” 

“Because I think…” she began, looking up and away from the fire for just long enough to feel her cheeks begin to cool. She then dropped her gaze back to his own, noting how focused and determined his eyes looked. Noting that those cat-like pupils remained despite the human color. “I’m not the only one who seeks freedom here. I think, because I am human…” his lips had begun to part, a small sign of surprise to the words despite the knitting of his thick brows, “I feel I must persevere for all our sakes, and not just my own.” 

Again, there was silence as they stared at each other. His look of surprise and confusion lingered for some time before he reigned himself in and turned his gaze away. His shoulder, as well, turned, the better to fully disengage from their conversation. Gruffly, he uttered the command, “Go to bed.”

Her lips parted to argue, but she realized it was a futile fight, and instead opted to roll her eyes and push herself to her feet. Stepping over the blood splattered floor, she found herself the remnants of the sheets he’d discarded when he had chosen his cloak, returning to the fire and beginning to wrap herself up. Using her arm as a pillow, she tugged her knees to her chest in an effort to keep warm. What she suspected to be the sounds of his settling down for sleep proved completely wrong. A sudden warmth washed over her, and her eyes opened to look down to the red haori that was now draped over her form. Her head turned to see the hanyou sitting with armor being hastily tied back over his torso to defend, instead, his tan undershirt. 

“What’s this for?” she asked, curious. 

“I’m used to the climate, and I’m not sleepin’ any. Not like this, anyway. Don’t get used to it, though; just get some sleep. I’m not going to hear you bitching when we get up at dawn to head back,” he snapped, the irritable InuYasha returning eagerly enough after their otherwise calm conversation. 

Despite herself, she rolled her eyes and snuggled further into her sheet cocoon. “Fine, fine. Goodnight, InuYasha.” 

“Goodnight, Kagome.” 

  
  



	8. Chapter 8

* * *

There was always a routine to things, and yet there wasn’t. Every time Kagome would turn around, something was being tossed into the machine to send it awry and she was forced to merely hold on for the ride. This impromptu trip taken to the castle in the middle of nowhere could have easily been the most egregious of the cogs gone astray, but she couldn’t bring herself to be too vexed. Even as she sat on the foot of the familiar bed, staring groggily at the back of the silver haired man as he applied his markings, face throbbing and stomach growling in hunger, she found it difficult to be angry. 

She had learned a lot. A great deal. 

She learned about the wolves and their packs and she had learned of the structure of their society. Well, what bit of it she had been allowed to know. It was clear that what he had disclosed was only the tip of the iceberg, and still did not answer any of her more burning questions about the hanyou and how their social structure worked. Why they all were subjugated but he remained as he was. There were a few easily ventured assumptions, but something she was quickly learning to do was not rely on anything she came up with to assume. 

The hanyou turned his head, regarding her and her perch. His eyes clawed over her expression, boring into her stare to no retreat of hers in response. There was nothing safe to be assumed, no. Not with this InuYasha to contend with.. 

“What’re you staring at?” he grumbled. The dog was not pleasant on a regular day; there was no hope he would be a ray of sunshine on no sleep at all. 

“You.” was her simple response, hands drawing down the tops of her legs to grip her knees as she righted herself out of her hunched sitting position. His expression only flattened. 

“Why?” he asked sourly. The thick dog ears rotated, turning back and against his head in agitation to her boldness so early in the morning. There were no shivs today, but he wasn’t in the mood for conversation nor her human oddities either. 

“Am I not allowed to stare?” she probed. 

“Stop it,” he commanded, turning back around to finish lining his eyes with the black, inky paint that brought out the heat of his otherworldly eyes. So much like his brother’s. Did his father have the same trait? He had to have. Clearly it wasn’t something from his mother’s side. 

“I really am sleepy…” Kagome uttered aloud to her meandering thoughts, hand coming to press her palm to her brow, her gaze cast downwards. InuYasha gave a snort of amusement at that. 

“Then stay here.” Her attention snapped up to the allowance in time to see him stand from the small bench in front of the vanity and nudge it back under the table with his leg. “I need to meet with the King, he and his advisors.” His head turned to look toward her from over his shoulder. The layers of clothing were slipped over his shoulders, dangling chains and scant gems clattering noisily as he finished pulling his arms through the sleeves. 

Her lips tightened, thinning into a line as she shuffled forward on the bed a bit more and tucked her feet under her as if about to stand. “And I can’t go with you?” She tried not to sound disappointed. It wasn’t a desire to spend time with the man; it was the opportunity to see the King and to know what business it was they were to discuss that had her feeling as though she was missing out. With a simple shake of his head, her shoulders slumped. “Is it so important? I’ve been able to accompany you to many things that I wouldn’t expect to be privy to.” 

“It is. You’re forgetting your place, woman,” he reminded her calmly, hands sweeping back to begin gathering up his hair and tie it at the nape of his neck. “You’ve been given a lot more freedom than any prisoner of your caliber deserves and you’re sulking at this.” 

The rebuke had her shift her weight awkwardly, dark eyes turning away from the hanyou and toward the window seat instead. She observed how the light draped over the dark cushion, the heirloom sword resting against the wall that faced her with just as much a presence as any living being. Perhaps she had grown too comfortable. She had expected treatment such as beatings, a cold stone cell or worse… A hand came to her throat, rubbing it gently. Finally, she retorted a more subdued, “I’m not sulking; I’m just-” 

“Sulking,” he quipped, cutting her off and giving a final tug to the knot that held the crescent moon pendant in place against his neck. “You humans are so sensitive. Feel the slightest bit of rejection and you go off and bitch and moan about it.” He took a short look in the mirror and adjusted his haori and the sash about his waist attentively. She mused over how much attention he was taking to preparing himself today as he made his way to the window seat and collected his sword. 

At first, she had thought his routine was a bit lagging because he was tired and had no interest in speeding through as he usually did, but this was different. He was focused. Double, sometimes triple checking a knot or the position of a seam in his clothing in the mirror between snippets of irritated conversation. Everything was meticulous. Everything was perfect. Even his posture was more rigid than the norm, if that was even possible, and his gait so fluid that he practically floated across the floor. 

“Are you worried?” 

His hands froze in their tightening of the draw around his sword’s scabbard, head slowly turning to regard her with an expression both perplexed and on the verge of rage. With a snap of his fists, he tightened the knot securely and turned back to the mirror again. “I have nothing to worry about,” he finally growled. 

“I see,” she said in reply, letting the word linger there in the quiet between them. Linger it did, heavy and accusing. An unbelieving pair of words, and she could see they were gnawing at him. Each twitch of his fuzzy ears and snort from his nose was satisfying confirmation. 

“Learn your place.” He retreated to his own words, maintaining his composure and ruffling her feathers. He really was being difficult today - a broken record, more than usual, and she resorted to more aggressive tactics. 

“What are you going to talk to him about? Is it about me?” she pried now shamelessly. She pushed herself to her feet with a rock of her weight, striding halfway toward him as he tended to the last of the laces of his boots. The hanyou looked up to her, brows lifted and eyes half cast. His mouth opened to speak, but she voiced the question she knew was coming before he could manage it, “That -is- my question.” He heaved a sigh. 

Pushing on the backs of his knees he came to a stand and turned his eyes toward her with a vaguely tolerant air. “I don’t know.” His hand lifted before she could protest further, head shaking briskly as he continued, “And I’m not lying about it, either, so just toss that from your simple little head.” As if to brush her off, he waved his hand dismissively in her direction as he moved toward the door. “Now stay in here and keep quiet. It shouldn’t be long, just an hour or two, and then it’s back to the normal routine and be done with this stupid interrogation.” 

Before she could even offer a response, the door had been opened and promptly closed behind him on his exit. Her arms crossed and she resisted the urge to childishly stamp her foot at being left behind, trapped in the empty room and forced into a state of absolute boredom. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been completely confined, usually permitted to at least go about her business running errands if he was nearby to ‘keep an eye’ on her, but this time was different. This meeting he was going to be completely absorbed and she was on her own. It took only a few steps to make her way toward the window seat, hand taking hold of the corner of the wall as she stood with her knees against the cushions to look down and over the city below. Youkai moved about in all shapes and sizes, a hum of progress and daily ritual leaking through the window; even the roars of a disgruntled youkai here or there had become commonplace in the music. 

“In retrospect… Maybe staying inside while he was gone wasn’t so bad an idea.” A hand came to her chest, gripping the talisman that rested against her forest green tunic. Powerless and left to wander the halls completely out of the scant influence the hanyou general could offer her, she didn’t want to test her luck. A cold reminder that she truly had been forgetting her place in this whole situation. She was a prisoner. She should be thankful for what freedoms she had. 

Her hand settled on the doorknob, turning it and tugging it open as she leaned out of it to peer down the flights of stairs. 

“A short peek wouldn’t hurt...” she hummed to herself, casting a glance over her shoulder to the room before looking back into the hallway. A tentative step was made out of the door. “He never let me get any food, and I’m not going to wait for lunch. I’ve done this a dozen times already.” The door closed quietly behind her. The click of the latch sent her anxious heart pounding and her stomach turning with excitement and a twinge of fear at directly disobeying one of the few full orders her ‘caretaker’ had given her. He had said an hour or two. That should be plenty of time to get some food and return to the room. She might even be able to pick up some of the wash, and finally see that garden he never permitted her to see, always on such a strict schedule. And, of course she could do some reconnaissance… Oh! And talk to more of the hanyou in the castle! Her fear and anxiety turned into giddy excitement every step she took out of her cage and into the wilds of the King’s castle. She had two hours! She wasn’t going to waste a second of it!

There was always a numbness that came with these things. Ever since before he could remember, he always felt as if there was some degree of leaving himself behind in order to quell the uncouth nature of his blood. Each step that took him closer to the tall, dark and well carved narrow doors of the audience chamber had him eliminate just another shred. Leave behind a slice of what he was in his quiet moments, who he was when he was in the field. He needed to be proper, ready to obey. There was an itch to his palms, teased by the sharp tips of his claws as he walked in nervous habit, a sinking in the pit of his stomach from uncertainty.

Normally in these situations, he would have the mask to keep him balanced. It always seemed to do the trick; these meetings went well and he would be in and out with whatever it was they wanted of him, whether it be to lead another battalion or handle some internal threat to the court. It was just so much easier when he had it, and his brother knew that. Despite his place, he knew his brother knew best. He was always given that benefit from him. It was his brothers mercy, his king’s mercy, and it was without a bottom. Or so he had thought - these past few weeks were arduous. 

_No_ , he thought as he stood before the doors proper, the guards standing at attention and waiting for him to progress forward that they might grant him entry. _No, I’ve been difficult. And the priestess hasn’t been doing me any favors. What I’ve received is what is deserved._ The reminder felt bitter, those teasing claws now biting into the soft flesh of his rough palms so hardened from work and training. Jaw set. Fangs biting into the insides of his lips. _I just need to keep quiet. Nod and do what he says then I’ll be out._ A thick swallow of breath, heart beginning to thunder against his chest and drawing a curious violet eye from one of the guards as they sensed the change in his scent. He scowled in return, charging forward and past the opened doors into the dark room.

The room itself was not incredibly large, the tall window that faced the innards of the castle courtyard casting dark streaks across the image of his brother’s silhouette and his own face. Walls were draped in rich red fabrics as the backdrop for the modest council that stood at Sesshoumaru’s flanks, each figure draped in fur and feather, sporting skulls over their faces - cranes, bulls, cats, and the scant baboon as was customary. There would only be one dog, the current leader, and the first of a family lineage to follow their previous leader. Sesshoumaru was quite the trendsetter in that regard. Even in the dim warm light of the room, he could see the king’s gaze thin as his brows lowered and he remembered himself. 

A fist thudded against his chest and he lowered his upper body promptly at the waist in a rigid bow so abrupt the long silver hair fell in curtains over his shoulders. “My King.” 

“General,” Sesshoumaru permitted, his hand lifting from one of the barred shadows to beckon the hanyou forward with a curl of his digits. InuYasha righted himself and proceeded to take his trained three steps forward. Each footfall echoed like thunder in his ears, his chest growing tighter as he did his best to ignore the empty eyes that followed him. Instead, he kept his gaze on Sesshoumaru’s, determined but not challenging. He needed to stay small. 

“What is it that my kingdom needs of me,” he asked, though it was only formality, spoken as more the practiced statement that it was. “I am here to serve until my dying breath for my people.” 

“Ah, so you do remember how to be the General and not the hanyou,” the king mused, weaving his fingers together over his stomach against the layers of fur that resided there. “I had nearly forgotten with how you have been behaving of late. Did you enjoy your evening away from us?” 

InuYasha hesitated a moment, working through what exactly the correct answer might be to such a question. His response, then, began slow and uncertain, gaining momentum and security as he proceeded, “Yes… Thank you for your infinite wisdom to have me bring the prisoner. I will not forget what lessons you permit me, My Lord.” 

A low hum of appraisal drifted from the king, weighing the response he was offered. Finally, he clicked his tongue and turned his head toward his right, a hand extending to collect up an offered parcel wrapped in silk. Coming to a stand, he proceeded down the steps that lead from his elevated chair that he might sit taller than all in the room. Between both of his hands he now held the parcel and was within arm’s length of his brother when he stopped. 

“General,” he spoke calmly, ignoring the fact that the hanyou didn’t look up. He was too focused on the parcel held in the king’s hands. The familiar shape of it. The size of it. Without even holding it he knew how heavy it was, every rough spot, every rise and fall of the carved surface. He knew exactly what it was and that familiar, twisting and churning feeling that merely the proximity to it caused. “I am glad to announce that your replacement mask has been completed. We urge you to return to your previous ways and traditions regarding it.” He lifted it, a familiar gesture that the hanyou knew all too well, and mechanically extended his own hand to hook his fingers into the cloth and draw it away. So many times before, he had done this, feeling that spark of power that leapt from the wood and into his fingertips. 

In the past, years gone long and by, he would fight this moment. He would be dragged to the room, trying to escape the power he was not yet able to tolerate. His body would ache, cry out for him to get away. That it wasn’t right. The cries for mercy, the yelps and simpering of pain. He could remember when he had finally broken that habit, though it was nowhere near a trading off this formal. An evening where he had been summoned to his king’s private chambers, barely taller than the man’s hip and carrying the heavy burden between his own small hands. Tears welled in his eyes, defiant turn of his chin as he plead for freedom from this curse. 

_ I don’t want to wear it anymore! _ He had declared, tossing the mask to the ground in his childish tantrum.  _ It hurts, and it’s hot and I don’t like it! Brother, can’t I wear something else! Father never made me hide like this.  _ Sesshoumaru’s response was as it always was. Smooth, quiet, and controlled as he stepped to his side with an understanding hand settled on his shoulder. He was guided by that warm hand to the full length mirror near the master bed and urged to stand still as his brother lowered to a knee at his side. 

_InuYasha._ He spoke quietly, the hand on the boy’s shoulder coming to cradle his cheek and jaw as to hold him still as they peered into their reflections. Spitting images of each other but so far apart. _I see us as we are, you know. We are both of our Father’s get, and yet you, my poor brother, have been given nothing but misfortune._ The child’s wide eyes turned to regard his brother in the mirror but he did not interrupt. _Your traitorous mother’s blood pumps through your veins, and it is so evident, InuYasha. It creates a great chasm over which I cannot cross and greet you._ His thumb ran over the boys cheek to call attention to how bare it was, _You hold no markings of our father’s heritage. Your skin betrays you._ The hand drifted upwards, drawing along the ears that protruded from the thick muss of silver bangs, _And you’re deformed, brother, look? Look at this shameful display. Do you not notice how people look at you? It is disheartening, InuYasha._

He had begun to lose his composure, tears bubbling up from his eyes as he retreated under his brother’s arm, ear flicking away from those prying fingers.  _ It hurts. _ He whimpered, hoping for some sort of concession.  _ It hurts and it’s hot. Don’t make me wear it. You’re the king. You can tell them to look away. Order them to. _ Sesshoumaru peered down to him, an unreadable expression carved into his face. Something closed away and far from this room and this boy. 

_ It is disheartening to  _ **_me,_ ** _ InuYasha. I have gifted you the mercy of your life despite your blood. _ His grip took hold of the boy’s chin, turning it to hold it still as he spoke.  _ I have permitted you to stay here. I claim you as my sibling but you must understand how revolting you are? _ Doglike ears pinned back, eyes widening as he retreated as best he could from the hold that was upon him.  _ You are like the servants, a hanyou. Half of the glory of a proper youkai. You are half weak, vile human. _ The man’s voice had taken on a soothing tone, arms reaching out to wrap around the doll that once was his younger sibling, the boy having known hints of such honesty before. Not once had it been laid out so plainly.

_ Your mother stole from this kingdom, stole from your brother, something so precious. She stole from you something so precious. It is in my infinite mercy you are still here. Have you forgotten this, InuYasha? _

_ No. I didn’t forget.  _ The boy responded, turning his face away from the cold evening air and into the soft folds of his brother’s fur cloak and clothing. 

_ There is something we can do, though. Something that will bring you back to us. Redeem you for the woman’s transgressions.  _ A hand smoothed over the soft hair. Despite his tone of voice, soothing and quiet, his previous expression endured.  _ Something that will restore you. Lift you of your repulsive condition. _

_ I don’t know where it is. _ The boy returned for what felt like the millionth time.  _ I told you. I never saw it. She kept it away.  _

_ I believe you. But the humans still have it. And we need your help to get it, you see.  _ To this the boy lifted his head, peering up to his brother’s eyes.  _ Every debt requires payment, InuYasha. The payment I wish for is your happiness, and you can only ever be happy as a youkai. A full blooded youkai. _ His hands came to the boys cheeks, cradling the warm and salt streaked skin.  _ And that requires the Shikon Jewel. That requires war against those who stole it from us. Those who hide it still.  _

_ I will do whatever it takes!  _ InuYasha declared, fisting his hands,  _ I will become a full youkai like you! And like father! I’ll fix everything! _

Sesshoumaru’s lips curled into a satisfied smile as he stood from the young hanyou and crossed the room to pick something discarded from the floor. Brushing it off he turned and made his way back to the boy, offering it to him.  _ Then you will need to use this. You will need to show that you know what shame you are, that we of full blood recognize it as well. Know your place, InuYasha.  _ As the boy tentatively reached out his hands, accepting the mask again the man continued.  _ While you are working to cure yourself, you should do well to blend in, as to not offend those above your station. Begin using the paints and looking glass I gave you on your face. Wear your mask when you accompany to council. Do what must be done for the greater good. _ The smile only grew, InuYasha dropping his attention from his finer elder brother down to the mask he gripped between his hands.  _ Show me how much you appreciate your king’s mercy. _

“General, do you hear me?” Sesshoumaru urged from his chair at the head of the room again, having left the hanyou holding the mask in his hands. InuYasha’s gaze had been focused on the king despite the tilt of his head, regarding him with a distance that had grown familiar between the two brothers as they aged. When finally InuYasha lifted his chin to regain a more respectful posture the king continued. “You will be departing tomorrow. Everything has already been arranged.” 

“Where am I to be going?” the general inquired dully. 

“To meet with the Taijia. They’ve been more outspoken since their clan leader has taken to his bed as of late, and I’m not about to take to breaking bread with the likes of them. It was your arrangement, you deal with it. And while you’re out there, take the time to begin applying pressure along the border between our territory and theirs. I would rather not have the humans with such land between the two of us if we intend to keep this peace.” The king sounded agitated for once, his shoulders slumping some as he rested into his chair further. 

“I would need to get into contact with-” InuYasha began, hooping a length of fabric through one of the eye holes of his mask to tie it to his sash properly. He was cut off by a shake of his kings head. 

“Unfortunately, he’s already here.” 

Though Kagome had expected her meal to be enjoyable, free to observe the many youkai and hanyou that milled about the dining hall, she was left wanting for conversation. The table was so quiet when there was not an ornery hanyou to banter with. Her attempts at conversation with the serving hanyou were lacking as well. Each time she would try to strike up a conversation, offer a hand or even demand they speak to her she was greeted with deep bows and apologies and fleeing backs. 

She had never thought in her time as a prisoner she would be on the receiving end of so much respectful avoidance. Where she wasn’t touched with their hands in any form of aggression, their ever prying eyes were a constant on her back. She picked up the laundering and had time to also pick up a bit of mending before she found her way to the gardens. The priestess had only ever seen them from the windows, but that gave them little justice. Once she passed the threshold of the long deck that ran alongside the doorway and windows, she was standing amidst a beautiful array of colorful flowers. The paths of soft packed dirt lead her into the clearing that sported benches and an ornately carved fountain of the same dog she had seen the morning before, however this time it was joined by an elegant crane, the charging bull covered in chains, and a collection of cats scattered along the base. It was when she drew closer, keeping the soft fabrics of her day’s chores tucked close as to not risk them getting wet, that she noticed the subtle presence of spiders - spindled thread draped about each creature, quite purposefully leading to a good, fist-sized spider situated on the dog’s back, holding a small brazier and scales. 

Kagome leaned further still and lifted a hand to extend out to one of the closest spiders she could find. A knee lifted, settling on the lip of the pool and she was just about to brush her fingertips against the smooth stone when an arm circled about her waist just in time to catch her from toppling into the water below her. 

“Whoa, there, my lady. You best be careful. I’d hate to see such a beauty as yourself get all wet.” The voice of a man soothed, deep and easy, though he paused, looking thoughtful as he helped her to her feet which gave his words a slightly lecherous lilt. 

“I’m well and fine,” she retorted, pulling away from the man and arranging her clothing, “I’d rather you not touch me, the water won’t cause me t-” she stopped, looking the man over and mirroring his similar expression of sudden shock to their situation. There was no aura about him. No ominous feeling of an otherworldly nature. He had no sense of it at all, so this man wasn’t youkai or hanyou…

“A human?” they inquired at the same time, both lifting a hand up to cover their mouths simultaneously. 

“Well.” He broke the quick silence, moving to pace about the girl who did well to step forward and keep her distance from the man in his inspection. “I had heard rumor they were keeping a human pet here, but I had not thought they’d let it wander free like this and...” he reached out to tug at one of the folds of fabric she held which she immediately tugged out of his “Doing their laundry...” 

Kagome snorted, squaring her shoulders much like she had see the hanyou do in the past few weeks. Her jaw set, brows furrowed and she took on a more commanding tone of voice, “I beg your pardon, but do you even know who I am? And what rumors could you possibly be hearing to not tell you to whom you speak?” The man righted himself again, and she took the time to give him a proper look over. 

He looked travel worn. His clothing was layers of dark violets and pitch blacks that were tied up and back into a black sash at the small of his back to allow his black legginged legs freedom of movement. He wore little armor that she could see, going so far as to be walking about in mere sandals versus traveling boots. The most peculiar parts of him were the chest guard he wore, completely covered in what looked like layers upon layers of little scraps of paper that hung loosely to his waist, while his only weapon was a tall staff that was entirely covered in dangling charms of all shapes and sizes. She was able to recognize a few of them as symbols of major cities of the human lands, a few being the crests of minor lords in small villages scattered about the realm, but there were just as many she could hardly recognize or had only ever seen on the battlefield; the most prominent of one being a crescent moon surrounded by dangling gems which called back to her to be a spitting image of the same moon she had seen InuYasha wear about his neck. His smile was the most infectious part of him, a broad grin under happy violet eyes that glimmered from beneath tangled black bangs. His hair was pulled back in a modest ponytail at the nape of his neck, longer than most human men would wear it for the sake of fashion, but given how traveled he was, she chalked its length up to the same reason as the hints of stubble along his jaw; he just didn’t have the time to bother. 

“How could I  _ not _ know.” He swept an arm up, wrapped with violet fabric and again in a ribbon of black that sported a collection of runes, and drew it across his midsection as he took such a deep bow that the grip on the staff was what had kept him standing. “Lady Priestess, Savior of the People. So chosen by fate as the reincarnation of the High Priestess of the Shikon Jewel.” He looked up to her, his grin growing from an amused smile to a confident smirk. Her lips pursed. 

“And what are you doing here?” she quipped, oddly uncomfortable under the weight of her title that he knew so well despite his greeting to her. “How have you not been mauled to death by these youkai.” Her eyes darted about, watching as the other youkai and hanyou mulled about with little regard to the pair outside of an odd stare now and again or a snort of contempt. The man righted himself, wrapping an arm about his staff and resting his cheek against the back of his fingers. 

“Unlike you, I know how to make friends with people.” His attention flickered up to the moon dangling from his staff to tap it on its bottom point and sending it into a playful spin. “And, I’ve been granted a pardon in exchange for my wares.” 

“Wares? What wares. I don’t see a-” she paused, looking him over and stopping on his passive face. “You’re a  _ spy _ ,” she spat, throwing the clean laundry to the ground and beginning on to the man. Her fists were at her sides, steps sure and he was on the retreat. Stumbling back he held his hands up, waving them to try to fend her off. 

“No! I’m no-I mean, it’s not so  _ simple _ as that! It’s not  _ all _ I do,” he tried to explain as his sleeve was snatched up and dragged forward by the smaller woman, though a thwap of his staff against her wrist sent her hand on a retreat. “My apologies, Lady Priestess!” he offered, backing away a few more steps, “I do keep it as a general rule to not hit ladies unless in self defense!” 

“Not  _ all _ you do! You filthy traitor!” she snarled, going back on the charge and ignoring the fact she was being lead in a circle, kept at length by the tip of his staff he would sweep out if she crept any closer than he found comfortable. 

“You’re selling out your own people!” she barked at him, nearly driving him into a rather large rose bush when she managed to catch the staff on a swipe only to have him yank it out of her grip. 

“My Lady Priestess, please! As a woman of faith you must know that they all can’t be so bad, right? Not everything is black and wh-ayhey!” By now there were youkai and hanyou alike standing well and off to the side, watching the pair as they squabbled loudly in the gardens. When a third presence arrived, there was a distinct hush and scattering. 

Standing over the tossed aside clothing was the general who eyed them flatly until he was nearly tackled down by the traveler. The dark haired man shoved past him, gripping onto the back of his haori and swinging an arm around his other side, ignoring any grunts or snarls of protest InuYasha issued. The staff swept out to point to Kagome now, quivering accusingly. 

She had frozen the moment she’d seen the silver haired hanyou, bristling rigid with wide eyes. When his golden eyes turned from the man to her, she felt herself shrink down and away as if she was about to be chastised by a superior. A snort sounded, then and she stamped her foot to right her posture. She would not shrink before him. She was a grown woman, the Lady Priestess as the man had said. She would not be ashamed of leaving a cage when she was left unsupervised. 

“First,” InuYasha began in a growl, lifting his hand to shove against the other man’s head and push him aside, “Miroku, get off. She’s as harmless as you are in here.” Miroku stumbled to the side, making a great show of the movement but upon noticing nobody seemed much to care, he rolled his eyes and stood properly. 

“So much for the priestess ‘so full of the Mother’s tenderness.’ You do realize without spiritual energy we’re actually equally matched, you know,” he griped to the general, who didn’t pay him any more mind than he deserved when there were more pressing matters to address. 

“I told you to stay in the room,” InuYasha growled to the priestess who now moved to the fabric on the ground, gathering it up and looking over where it might have taken on any dirt from the path. “I was only gone for an hour and a half, why the hell did you leave?” His voice only increased in volume as she was clearly ignoring him now. 

“I was hungry,” she finally stated, her hand casually brushing off the dust and dirt from his clothing and adjusting the folding of it. “You can’t keep me locked away with no food.” And she looked him over then, scrutiny clear in her expression and held fast there. She wasn’t going to allow him to believe she had become so subservient to him, which was an interesting challenge as she held onto his laundry. “And it looks as though you’ve not even considered to bring any food with you from the dining hall.” Her gaze snapped back up to him with such severity both he and the absolutely lost Miroku both gave a start. “I thought your intention was to keep me  _ alive,  _ InuYasha.” 

Though he did not gape the way this Miroku fellow did, he certainly looked taken aback by her. He swallowed and opened his mouth to retort, though something crossed his expression and the heart went out of him for the fight. He spat to his side, relenting and crossing his arms over his chest. Miroku now stared at him, then back to her, then back up to the hanyou again and pointed up at him. 

“Wait, you’re… You’re just going to let her do that?” he asked, and Kagome wanted to seize up that staff and smack him upside the head with it. She didn’t need the dog provoked right now, she was already feeling foolish having been caught as she had been to begin with. 

“Shut up,” InuYasha snarled, brushing past the pair. Miroku followed without a second thought, as if it was simply expected of him to do so, which sent her off guard. She stood by the fountain for a moment, watching their retreating backs. There was something she had noticed, and her gaze drew down to it hanging from his hip and clattering against the scabbard of his sword.  _ The mask is back. That must be what the meeting was about.. _ .

“Hey.” 

She looked up to find the both of them staring at her just before the doorway leading into the hall, InuYasha with a foot already on the porch. Miroku was the one who had spoken, hand gripping his staff as he wiggled it at her in a similar way as before, though instead of a look of mock dread, he was more than amused. 

“It’s impolite to stare at someone’s ass above your station, Lady Priestess. And I thought your faith was pure of heart  _ and _ mind.” 

If it wasn’t for the lewd insinuation being levied against her that made her cheeks go crimson, it was the snap of attention the hanyou shot from her to the man with his face just as scarlet as her own. A fist came down on the back of the traveler’s head, his shirt then grabbed and shoved into the hall with the hanyou to follow after him sputtering curses and threats all the while. It was when InuYasha was standing in the threshold of the doorway that he turned his wrath upon her. Fists were at his sides, brows lowered and volume much louder than she had heard of him even with his various tantrums; for how violent he was, he always at least had some shred of control. 

“Are you coming, woman or am I going to have to drag you, too?” His nostrils were flaring, lips tight though pulled back just enough that she could see the glint of his fangs. This general wasn’t enraged at her, she realized in his huffing with the snickering of Miroku behind him. He was embarrassed. 

She felt a smile creep over her lips, tightening her grip about the clothing. Her head nodded with a sound of affirmation, and she gave chase to disappear into the hallway at his back. 


	9. Chapter 9

* * *

It had been days since he had last been in that room in that tall keep tower. Since he’d reclined in his window seat overlooking the capitol and listening to the mutterings and pacing of the miko woman in his custody. If he was honest with himself, it’d felt like days since he’d been able to have a clear, true view of the sky above him or the forest around him. This damnedable cart was driving him near to madness. 

“Did you doze off again? I certainly hope you haven’t dozed off again.” 

Not to mention the company.    
  
InuYasha flicked a furry ear toward his cart companion, head tilting just enough to regard him from the corners of his eyes. Miroku, sitting cross legged on the other side of the cart was looking back at him. He was cleaning under his nails lazily with the horn of a bull figurine that was hanging from one of the window tapestry tassels and looking perhaps a little more agitated than normal. Of course, the hanyou mused, how could one look a peace and relaxed when they were a single human in the epicenter of a youkai command moving to the fronts. He was hardly stuck in that box for lack of better options to be elsewhere.    
  
“Why?” the hanyou asked lazily, “Did you suddenly decide you actually needed my half of the conversation? You seemed to be doing fine on your own, blathering as you have.” Miroku’s eyes narrowed a little though InuYasha only met with a fanged, nearly predatory grin. His mind had, yet again, wandered off to thoughts of his prisoner. Despite the distance she lurked in the corners of his mind with her shivs and spirited remarks making it near impossible to give the monk his full attention. The priestess was an enigma. Always threatening some sort of vengeance and justice for her peoples hurts then giving him one of those looks bordering on pity moments later. She was a challenge. Uncomfortable to deal with. Those familiar eyes and familiar looks with such a different and yet similar personality…

The staff jingled as Miroku tapped him on the head roughly three times, causing InuYasha to flinch away from the weapon and ultimately snatch it up with his own grip. When he yanked the staff away from the human he snarled, but the monk simply supplied “You jab at me and then doze off again immediately afterwards. I know you need your brooding time but at least try to focus some.” The rebuke was not one he hadn’t heard before and he couldn’t help but roll his eyes to it. Like some teacher trying to strike a child’s knuckles to urge them to listen.    
  
“What, then?” InuYasha spat, thrusting the stave across the distance between them for the monk to catch it with one hand and settle it back across his lap. “Why can’t you just sleep?”

“Because I’ve already slept. I slept last night, I slept a few hours ago, and I’ll sleep after the meeting. Do you honestly think I’m just going to sleep for a week straight and not bother you or anyone else? I’m a human, General, not a cat.” Well, damn. Now the human was annoyed. Just as he was considering and preparing a snarky retort the monk continued, “Is that how you’ve not killed each other? She sleeps like she’s just some house cat and you’re left to brood and grumble on your own?” 

“It is of no concern of yours.”The general snapped irritably, his patience in no shape to be tested. Miroku didn't seem to be inclined to avoid commenting on the situation the hanyou found himself in. There was certainly no lacking in jovial or pointed remarks about the feistiness of the priestess in contrast to what he had seen in ceremonies in her homelands, or how the hanyou had not yet completely isolated her off into some closet and out of his way. This time, unfortunately, the biting tone of his voice was not enough to turn Miroku from the subject.    
  
Miroku gave him an incredulous look, “Don’t be stupid. All joking aside, you must know the position not just you are in. What happens in that castle, with that woman, can turn the tides of countries.” Both the bull nail cleaning tool and his cleaned hands were settled across his staff now. He was focused. “This situation is dire and will only grow to be more so. Color me surprised to find that the treasured High Priestess of the Fallen Mother was sitting and playing at laundry maid for the Wild Dog of the North.”    
  
“Would you rather she be in chains? Linked up at the foot of my bed in rags and abused? At least she’s useful.” The hanyou bit off his return, shifting his weight uncomfortably and feeling the presence of the mask hanging from his belt grow heavy. Absently he reached for it. The silk ran over the hills and valleys of the snarling maw, shapes memorized over the years by his fingers. Miroku simply stared. Expectant.   
  
“I’m not stupid. I know the gravity of things. I’m not going to give my brother what he wants; I refuse to act as kicked as he thinks I am by the task he’s given me.” Before Miroku could reply he felt his own face withdraw a slight wince. 

“It’s not becoming. For either of you. I know I appreciate the steps you took to keep her from being ripped to pieces but I think this all is a bit… too unorthodox.” The gloved hand lifted to cradle under the human’s scruffy chin. As the monk reclined a bit further into his chair the hanyou drew the silk from the helm and looked down into the empty eyes of the snarling beast that looked back up at him. “Even if he’s aiming to shame you, wouldn’t keeping her under thumb be more important? You’re hardly ever in the castle anymore and she’s clearly been shown to have free reign. Which, by the way, is incredibly stupid on your part.” A hand lifted to demand silence from the bristling dog across from him, “What if a soldier comes home and sees her? It would take one swipe and we’ve lost another high priestess and you’ve all but lost your jewel until the next reincarnation pops up. Who knows how long that would be. How long do hanyou’s live, by the way? You may be dead by then.” 

“They won’t.” was InuYasha’s dry reply, “I don’t think a single youkai doesn’t know what and who she is and that the consequences of touching her.” Sighing he set the mask aside, letting it settle into the bed of fur that was it’s crown. “If anything that castle is the safest place she could be, so long as Sesshoumaru thinks it’s wise to keep her there.”

A gloved hand ran through Miroku’s soft black hair while a sigh escaped him. The sounds one would expect a parent to make of a disappointing child. “It’s bizarre.” 

“You’re telling me.” 

“How little you’re taking this seriously, I mean.” The monk added curtly. The general bristled once again, a temper on the verge and the human decided to change his tactic. “I know it’s not ideal… but I just don’t understand the logic.”

“I was just as surprised when it happened.” replied the general honestly, “Like I said, it was intended to shame but it still doesn’t hold much water. I can’t begrudge her who she is, she’s just another priestess as any other.” His shoulder rested against the side of the carriage, jaw settling into his palm as he peered out into the forest what he could glimpse as the curtain swayed back and forth. “I’ve killed millions of her people, I’ve been doing this job since before her parents even knew of one another. It is the life we both were crafted for; I want to destroy the wielder of the weapon, not the blade itself. Not right now. She’s annoying. A dangerous nuisance and a badge of shame but that’s about it when she’s in that castle.” 

“How very philosophical of you.” 

Amber eyes looked back to the incredulous man across from him, “I think she realizes the same. She postures and snorts but she does a lot of asking and looking. A human ball of rage but open to the experience of the moment.” He snorted, shrugging, “Though probably just open to find a weak spot, but it’s not like she can do anything about it. She lived loathing me, I’ve lived loathing the idea of her people. We’re different.” 

“You can’t loath humans that much.” The monk slipped toward the opposite side of the carriage that InuYasha was looking out from, peering out of the other window to the hint of a sturdy structure through the thick trees. “You wouldn’t be bothering with me or these alliances I drag you into.” 

“Calling the alliances is giving them too much credit, don’t you think?” InuYasha watched him for a moment before his attention trailed down to the mask abandoned on the cushion beside him pensively. Until ceremonially required, he would have to wear the thing once outside of the cart and his entire body was already beginning to ache from the idea of it. 

“Whatever you want to call it, the deal works. Or did, until you went and pissed them off.” Before InuYasha could deny the accusation the cart came to a rolling stop and the telltale clunk of the break being put in place sounded. After a short adjustment of his clothing, Miroku opened up the door and proceeded to slip out and turn to face the hanyou. “I’m going to go make sure everything is ready. You will be alright?” 

InuYasha glowered at the human, but those violet eyes were knowing. They had been ‘friends’ for over a decade now. If he hadn’t been told outright, the evidence was clear enough what such encounters did to the usually punchy hanyou after a stint with the helm between them. It was a rough ride. “Get to work.” Was all that was said and the door was closed. 

Alone in the silent cart the man was left sitting to stew in his thoughts. No more rocking, or creaking of wood. Everything was still and unnervingly quiet. Somehow, in these moments before he would put on the thing, everything slowed down and his skin began to crawl. Like that sensation before you stepped onto a battlefield you were unsure you were going to win, or when you’re about to eat something you’re not sure will turn your guts to water for the next week. He’d done it a million times before now. It was all necessary for the greater good of the kingdom and to be something the hanyou of the kingdom can aspire to. 

As the silken ties that held the bag over the mask were drawn loose and he withdrew the deceptively light wood from its case he dwelled on that thought. For the hanyou. For all of them. This thing that gave him the power of a full fledged demon able to rend through regiments of their enemies was something to aspire to. A wholeness that was denied to them at conception. What they should all be fighting for and what he knew he must sacrifice for; the benefit of them all. That they could crawl from the mud and muck of their pathetic existence and learn to be greater than they are. Be one with their brethren. This was all part of his duty to his King. Something a priestess could never understand. 

The ties were loosened on the mask and he flipped forward the thick white fur that he could slip the mask onto the top of his head and begin to secure it. Ears slipped through their designated holes so he could still hear clearly, the lines were tightened now and all that was left to do was pull it down and over himself. He shifted forward and onto the edge of his seat, making sure tetsusaiga was in its proper place, and his armor and clothing were immaculate. A quick check in the narrow mirror beside him assured him that his markings were all painted on accurately. There was nothing left to do. It was time to go. Thick claws scraped over the smooth wooden surface, ears twitching to the sound of the scrape. He was stalling.    
  
“K’eh.” he scoffed at his own weakness and he yanked the mask down over his face, quickly securing the last tie before the numbness set in. There was always that initial shudder, goose pimples prickling all along his flesh from the back of his neck down to the tips of his toes before the fire set in. A searing heat erupted in his chest, clenching violently around his heart and spreading in a pulsing wave throughout his body. InuYasha gripped into the edge of the bench, steadying himself as he waited for the initial influx of power to subside, nausea crashing in waves against his consciousness. It was always one thing to put the mask on right before the charge; the thrill of the battlefront and the anxiety of the oncoming fight were like feeders to the demon that lurked just under the surface. It was moments like these, however, where it was all for show. Where it was a matter of principle to show the strength of the king in politics, that it was obscenely difficult. Painful and unapologetic. Moreso with the months gap between the last time he’d worn it. 

The hanyou released a sharp gasp and brought his hand up to cover his mouth under the snout of the mask, fighting back a wretch. Where the silence had been deafening before he could now hear each breath of the thousands around him. Every time they shifted their weight, every cough, every beat of a pulse he could swear he could hear it all as it came flooding unabated into his ears. The scents flooded his senses only adding to the vertigo and nausea. The three gentle knocks on the carriage door were like blows to the head. Miroku’s voice, he knew, was barely a whisper for anyone who would have been directly in front of him without the barrier of a door, but it was loud and clear for InuYasha. 

“They’re ready. Let’s go.” 

The flood of light gave him the short moments he needed to adjust to the sudden bombardment. His eyes pounded, sinuses driving cracks into his skull that he had forgotten existed. He relied on following the shadow that he knew was the monk, counting the seconds before he emerged into the open air. His knees buckled, aching from being confined and tingling with the effect of the carved wood on his face; how he now wished they had been able to exit without the fanfare. The moment he was visible his back straightened and his shoulders squared. His head was held high, though only so much as to play off of the carved snarl that the mask gave to him. Each step, despite the raking of his own demonic energies claws through his innards, was taken with collected stride, everything absolutely dripping with decorum and the threat of violence if crossed. 

Through the haze of the pulse in his vision he could see the alley created for him leading to the main gates of the town. Demons of all shapes and sizes lined his way to the very last steps where there finally were humans there to greet him with polearms in hand. Their armor was clearly made of the scales and bones of demons who were foolish enough to attack them in the past, or wander too close to their villages at night. Though the sight for a less experienced, or less tried demon might be daunting or even horrific the hanyou was far too familiar with it to be phased. Their masks obscured the majority of their faces, which was the only comfort he could find in the entire ordeal. It was bad enough to be so vulnerable without the visible hatred so similar to the evidence within the castle walls he just came from. 

_ Weak. All of them. Weak.  _

He grit his teeth. Grinding them against each other he remained silent as Miroku made their introductions. “The General InuYasha of the Lord King’s army, protector of the Kingdom of Demons and the Wild Dog of the North, is here to treat with your clan leader. He would seek to observe the customs and protocols of the long standing treaty between the Taijia and the Demons in the hopes of maintaining the current peace and understanding. That you both may continue to prosper in peace.” with those words he bowed before the guards, who nodded their heads respectfully in turn. It was all so tedious. It was far too hot in the open air to be tolerating these formalities. 

_ Now bow your head, you idiot.  _

He bowed his head, stopping at the shoulder as to not show any more reverence for the soldiers than they required. If they even required that much from him. 

_ Lowly mortals _ . 

As the gates opened and the taijia guards turned, two of his own guards came out of formation to stand at his shoulders at least a pace behind. Following behind Miroku he focused his attention on the back of his head and allowed his nose and ears to do what observing he was left to. The scents of the settlement never changed. Blood. Smoke. Wood. Bread and miscellaneous cooking. One would think the stench of his own kin’s decaying corpses would litter the town, but the taijia had always been exceptionally proficient. Merely the grizzly reminders of their trade were evident in bones, claws and flesh cleaned, drying and awaiting their final preparation into weapons, armors, and whatever else they utilized them for. Borrowing the strength of his people to supplement their own weak bodies. 

_ Humans. _

The tip of his tongue ran over his lips to wet them. His breathing was quiet enough to be inaudible to anyone but him but it was loud under the wooden shell. Stifling. 

_ Focus. Focus. Focus, will have to get back in step.  _

He reminded himself as he stepped up and into the large building in the center of the village at the foot of a watch tower. As he stepped beyond the sliding doors and off of the porch. Perhaps it was because they were such a warrior’s society that they didn’t bother with the decadence that his elder brother encouraged. There was no tradition engrained in them to show off their power or wealth. It was all practicality. The interior garden they followed the parameter around wasn’t lush or large, but basic and clean. Practical and quiet. Peaceful. One might even have not noticed the guards standing mere feet from each other lining the doorways and walls on the other side of the more traditional human building. Ready for anything as the entourage of the Lord King of the demons came to wait before the final doorway leading to the viewing room. 

_ It would be so easy, though.  _

Golden eyes distracted away from the guards and their surroundings to plant firmly back to the back of the monk’s head. He couldn’t let his mind unfocus from the task at hand. It was hard enough to keep himself level when he wore the mask, the temptation of how he might burn this town to the ground was too much. He could already feel his fingertips tingling, the demonic energy burning at his nail beds. 

_ Destroy them; gut the old man on the way to the bitch.  _

His tongue, again, skated over his lips - a hint of blood teasing at his skin as he had been using his own fang to try to cut through it enough to ground him. The pain was almost nonexistent. The scent was familiar, though, and did the trick to keep a growl from escalating out of his throat. It did little for his racing mind. 

_ Hit her at the throat before she can even call out. The boy would be simple. Down before these guards would even know what happened.  _

He could feel his eyelids straining against his brows, eyes themselves burning as he forced himself to blink. 

_ The boy isn’t even blooded. _

_ Weak. Pathetic. All of them.  _

“General.” his attention snapped back to the monk who stood on the elevated floor in front of him, staff held to his side. It was apparent he had been calling to him a few times now, the stare levied on him one of mild concern and definite annoyance. He was given the time to collect himself before the monk continued with the ceremony. “Do you invite the Taijia to treat with you?” 

“Yes.” he replied, firmly and loudly; thanking the crane that they had not given him a great deal of dialogue. Even the short response sounded like a feral growl amplified by the long snout of the mask. Miroku nodded, stepping to the center of the floor and to the side to stamp his staff twice onto the mats; the charms hanging from the weapon releasing a roar of jingling. The room he found himself in was sizable - clearly large enough to house many leaders for formal meetings and well tidied. Weapons racks lined the walls, banners of clans within the Taijia community hung between them denoting their specialties and history. Over the wide doorway directly across from them hung a massive boomerang, decorated with tassels on either side and covered in leathery straps and hooks. This particular weapon was clearly retired and decorative - painted with a mural of a battle between the taijia and demons. Something that always seemed out of place in peace talks. 

Doors slid open across from him revealing the familiar trio. A man, large and broad of shoulder stepped forward dressed formally in dark blues, blacks and purples. Sunken cheeks and eyes over the same mask the others wore with a heaviness to his posture that hadn’t been there before. Frail and disposable. He smelled of sickness despite the obvious measures to hide it through smokes or perfumes. To his left shoulder was his youngest, a much more healthy male. Shorter, though, and, as suspected, clearly unblooded. He did not wear the same style of ceremonial dress of his family who had slain their first. InuYasha bit back a growl to how pleased and at ease he appeared. Then there was the woman. She was dressed as most human women, pale blue skirt over her violet and pink streaked kimono but that was where the similarities ended. Like her father and brother her hands and arms exposed the armor that protected them all under their clothing. A jagged scar crawled out from under the protection of her mask. It was hard to focus on all of the finer details of her person when he focused on her eyes. Dark, violent, and cold. She wanted to see his body strung up and piked on their proud gates. As if those gates would protect them. As if these people could protect them. Not from him. Not from his claws. He’d rip them open himself and let their guts steam in the dirt at his feet.

_ That bitch. That bitch would be first. She’d take over.  _ He licked his lips again, drawing his tongue roughly over his fangs to try to coax himself to attempt again to settle himself through pain,  _ Prove the threat she hates so much is still fresh. _ Despite himself his eyes narrowed, the bloodshot red beginning to creep into the pure white,  _ That I am stronger. Will not be underestimated. I am a  _ **_demon_ ** _. _

Miroku lifted the staff up and on reflex all four of them, Taijia and hanyou alike, drew their weapons from their belts, still sheathed, and held them forward in practiced synchrony. Easing down they placed them on the mat before them. Next came their masks. Each person drew theirs clear of their heads and tucked them respectfully under their arm. The hanyou visibly eased in the shoulders though the savagery of his stare was not diminished. The woman’s glower turned more severe. Did she snarl at him?

As Miroku lowered the staff the four stepped forward and onto the mats of their respective sides, stepping over and in front of their weapons and eased down to sit. The whole ceremony was short and sweet, but the trust it spoke to them all was a loud one. The taijia knew they were putting themselves at more risk than he was on the surface; a youkai or even a hanyou like himself were never truly disarmed but, then again… Never was a taijia. They had more pockets on their person than a sponge had holes. Each one filled with something more deadly than the last and this thought had him all the more thankful the treaty could be arranged. Long were the years where they were dealing with both the humans of the south and these taijia bastards. In a fair fight it’d be brutal. 

His body ached now, exhausted from just that short time under the mask. InuYasha resisted rubbing his palms over his aching muscles to ease out the knots while Miroku began announcing just why they were there. “The Lord King Sesshoumaru has reason to believe that the Taijia have begun hunting the youkai who travel near their borders. This would be in breach of the treaty which stated clearly that the only youkai who were to fall to your blades would be those foolish enough to attack you or those not under the Lord King’s banner. General InuYasha,” the monk motioned to him with his staff, his eyes flitting from Miroku to the Taijia across from him, “Is here to hear the reason for such transgressions against his people.”

InuYasha nodded accordingly, a low grunt sounding from the back of his throat in affirmation as the Taijia trio remained still. “We’ve reports that groups of our demons have not been returning home. Many have not even been making it to their checkpoints between here and the keep. This all, despite the fact that we have been making sure that our demons are following the strict routes that had been outlined at the beginning of this cease fire. How do you account for our losses?”

The woman seemed to tense, he could smell the slight hitch in her scent as her temper began to flare though otherwise she remained still. The boy simply looked perplexed. Their leader simply shook his head. “We have been following our part of the bargain, General. None of my people have been going anywhere near your trails. We are still maintaining the same routes as we always have. What evidence do you have that it is Taijia who are committing these crimes?” 

As if he had been waiting for the moment of the question, InuYasha lifted a hand to tuck just under the chest guard of his armor. A small, silk wrapped parcel was removed and set down before him. He unwrapped it carefully to expose, laying on the soft silvery material, a single broken spearhead crafted with a hardened bone who’s rising ridges were sharpened to points. The shaft was broken off, but the telltale scrap of deep green material often used to mark the taijia weaponry was evident and stained with rust toned dry blood. “It is small.” The hanyou began, setting the item on its bed of silk all the closer before he eased back to sit again, hands folded on the backs of his knees. “But it is one of many that was found. If you need us to bring back all of your leavings on what corpses we’ve been able to find I am sure we could do so.” 

There was no snarl in his voice. No evident malice. Yet still there was threat there in the calm, diplomatic words. Sure, they would bring them back - carried amidst an army of demons ready to demolish what was left of their already weakened way of life. If there was any positives he could say he gained from his brother, it was the hard won lesson that quietly spoken threats often cut the deepest. 

“That cannot be ours.” the woman spoke up with firm conviction. “My father speaks truth, and I can show you our patrol logs. We met just a fortnight ago with the other village leaders of our people and we have all attested we are cooperating despite your Kings  _ savagery _ that persists in the so-”

“Sango.” her father hissed, turning his head just enough to get a look at the woman. She tightened her grip on the backs of her knees. InuYasha could tell her knuckles were likely white with the tension, but he wasn’t surprised. She was never fond of his ilk. 

“Savagery?” he inquired smoothly, doing his best impression of Sesshoumaru in the subtle tilt of his lips upwards and incline of his brow. “We commit war in the south. We are fighting for what is ours by rights, and it is through our cooperation that the humans do not commit their own war on you as well.”

The woman snorted, the short tufts of hair that framed her face snapping back and forth as she shook her head. The firelight made that scar all the more gruesome on what he could see of her scowling face. “They threaten war with us  _ now _ , hanyou. They believe us your allies, not simply tolerant of your movements.” 

“And that is not all the more reason to stay out of it? It is clear they are unreasonable. You label us the savages, but we have ceased our assaults on you and yours; they threaten you now because you are not chasing us down through the forest for crimes we have ceased committing.” 

“InuYasha.” Miroku sounded in warning, though Sango was already leaning forward again. 

“They threaten us because instead of protecting them from demons like we are meant to be doing, we are standing by and letting you run free to slaughter them over some perceived slight!” 

“Per-Perceived slight!?” InuYasha barked, composure cracking as he bore his fangs, golden eyes flashing angrily to the woman. If the both of them had been dogs their hackles would be good and raised though one of them already was growling. 

“Enough! Both of you!” the man barked, pushing himself to his feet and silencing both the Hanyou and his daughter. “We are to be civil, not launching accusations against one another.” though he was tempted to glower to the man across from them his deep chestnut eyes bore into his daughter who had averted her gaze as soon as she had noticed he was speaking to her.

InuYasha watched as the man turned his attention back to him, Sango’s head remaining bowed in subjugation. “We recognize that you found some of our weaponry on your recovered kin. I can assure you, this is not an organized attack on our part and we will investigate this issue.” Sango’s head shot up, mouth opening though her father appeared to know it was coming as a hand came out to bid her to silence. “That is all that I can promise at this time, General.” 

The room was silent for a tense moment. Miroku’s eyes slid from the man to InuYasha slowly, “What say you to Chief Takeshi’s word?” Golden eyes flickered between the chief to the monk before he set his jaw tightly. Pushing himself to his feet the soft leather shoes tapped on the polished wood as he stepped back and closer to his heirloom sword. He didn’t want to fight with them, not right now and not over this. The woman was always short tempered, but she rarely spoke out of turn against her fathers wishes; and the acceptance of the issue at hand and declaration to investigate… well, he had yet to be betrayed by the chief of the Taijia and they’d been working together on this tight rope of an allegiance for decades now. He owed him some trust. 

InuYasha gave a firm nod, bringing a hand up to press to the armor that covered his chest with the rattle of shell and plate as well as the subtle tink sounds his claws made against the smooth surface. “We of the Demon Kingdom accept this at your word. We will host our own investigation into the disturbances and determine whether or not there was any wrongdoing on our part as well.” He knew that to be a lie, he had been told as much, but what better way than driving home the agreement than to promise to reciprocate the time and energy. 

The strategy appeared to work as Takeshi nodded and stepped back and off of the mats as well, mirroring the motion and offering a short and shallow bow that the hanyou mirrored in time. Takeshi’s children lagged behind, Sango more hesitant than her brother to stand with those dark eyes boring into him. He could feel their piercing stare, and was certain there was even a heat as if the fire he was sure she was imagining him drenched in was being manifest. For a split second the general began racing through his knowledge of the taijia to be sure they didn’t host any spiritual power of their own that he should be worried about. Though he came up lacking, and was certain it was just the sheer intensity of the woman, he still felt that uncomfortable shudder of threat and malice crawl under the skin. Like how the priestess could once cause his muscles to tighten and teeth to grit in anticipation of a fight with just one severe look or motion; only that he knew the priestess would be more of a threat to his mortality if given the weapon of her magic back. Sango was a close second. 

Gods save him if they ever teamed up against him.

“General, as is customary we offer our village to you and your entourage for the evening and only the evening so long as you are not traveling to war.” Takeshi stated, pulling InuYasha from the memory of a particularly heinous glower the priestess had given him before he had departed. Miroku, who was now standing as well, answered for him. 

“Unfortunately, sir, the General is on his way to rejoin the fronts and shall not be able to stay as per your allegiance agreement. If what was said is true, now more than ever we want as little suggestion of your aid of their cause as ever to spur on the southern kingdom to action.” Takeshi nodded with a subtle tightening of his lips, though it again was Sango who spoke up.

“Stopping here on your way to the fronts regardless puts our people at risk. Stopping here at any time does.” 

“That’s the price of war. My time is very limited and I can’t be running about making meetings when I’m needed between court and war. It’s too risky to send someone else instead because I don’t trust them to handle the negotiations.” InuYasha injected with a course edge to his voice. This woman was beginning to grate on him. She had never made it any form of mystery how she felt about this entire arrangement, the entire war, but he suspected as she aged and grew closer to taking her fathers place there was less and less hesitance to speak her mind.  _ I should be grateful _ , he thought,  _ She’s warning me of what I’m going to have to deal with the moment the old man bites it. I can at least brace myself for a revolt.  _

“Sango.” Miroku cooed wistfully, moving to approach the woman and take up her hand. “I promise to you I would do nothing to call the honor of your people or yourself into question. I will work tirelessly day and night to rid the winds of whispers of any foul words against the Taijia people.” Despite the dramatics of his declaration and the feigned sincerity there was no swooning woman in the other side of that arm. An impatient stare was settled upon him though significantly more tolerant than any look the hanyou had received. 

“Lord Monk, I am certain that you are going to do all that you can. I assume that is your way of telling us that you will, again, be accepting the invitation in his stead?” 

“I couldn’t possibly accept an invitation to the chiefs home-“ Miroku began, humble despite the mischievous smile that crossed his features, though his face fell as Sango cut him off.

“Oh, do not worry, Lord Monk. As a man of the cloth we know it is quite difficult in our type of village to find quiet time away without the distractions of our work and our women. So we have built for you a small hut of your very own, given how often you come to visit us. For our comfort, of course.” 

Miroku hung his head a slight bit, roundly defeated though not so much that he was disrespectful in his disappointment. “O-of course, Lady Sango.” With his words she promptly slipped her hand from his grip and looked to her father who was giving her a rather warm, appreciative smile. 

When attention returned to him InuYasha nodded. The two men, and the Taijia children, reached for their weapons and replaced them to their rightful positions on their person. It was he who spoke up, hands already gripping the mask between them and before himself. “Our accord has been maintained, and we know our tasks. In one months time we will send word as to our findings and move on from there.” The Taijia nodded. 

“On this we agree.” Was all that was said in return. 

***

An elderly woman sat in her sequestered cave dwelling somewhere deep within the forests that lined the edge of the human and demon lands. Hovering over her bubbling pot, she watched the brew swirl as she stirred it carefully. The scents of her brew filled her crooked nostrils, and her unamused expression contorted. Reaching up she pulled a shaft of herbs from her dried collection, tossing them into the pot and grumbling something about slim pickings. 

It was then that she heard the rustling of footsteps, head turning to look over her hunched shoulder to a shadow that darkened the reeds that comprised her makeshift doorway. It was a spindly collection of fingers that pulled them aside, the fur cloaks drawing over the dusty floor. This was not an unfamiliar sight. 

“Unless you have something of interest to me aside from a few scant dolls of deception I want no more of your business.” The crone rasped, turning back to her pot. 

“Nothing that you have made for me has gone to waste.” The smooth, masculine voice cooed, “But I should like you to prepare the clay for my next project, I think you would find the challenge invigorating.” Fanged teeth flashed from under his pale lips and her interest seemed to increase. From the folds of his attire he withdrew a small pouch that fit into the palm of his hand, offering it to her. 

She hesitated a moment, looking between the object and the bearer before she’d snatch it from his hand with a quick swipe of her gnarled hand. Tugging free the ties she sniffed the contents, slipping her fingers into it to inspect it further. “It’s still moist and soft… that place is at least a weeks travel by foot from here. And so guarded-“

“Oh, do not ask any questions. Simply prepare.” He turner to move toward the door again, pushing the reeds aside, “I shall have your final components before the weeks end.”


End file.
